Florida or Bust
by Freakygreeneyes
Summary: What if, instead of the booze cruize, Phyllis was right about the whole office heading to Florida? Jam! Dwight in a Speedo! It doesn't get better than this!
1. Chapter 1

-1Michael was positively brimming with excitement. "Well," he addressed the camera, sitting with his feet propped up on his desk "Every once in a while, we have a group-building activity. But I reeeally think this one is going to be a winner!" He was grinning like a little kid on their birthday, all but jumping up and down in his seat. "I told everyone to pack things like, uh, a swimsuit, a toothbrush and a ski mask." Michael snorted at his own little joke. "Just to throw them off the scent, you know? They have no idea what's coming."

xxxx

Jim sat at his desk, slumped into his chair. He was pretending to do a Sudoku on his computer, but honestly, he was watching Pam. She looked tired and pale; there were small bags under her eyes, which were unfocused, staring into her desk. He still thought she looked beautiful, but he was pretty sure she could have a paper bag over her head and still look beautiful. But he knew that January was her least favorite month, that it drained something from her. The excitement of the first snow fall of December was gone, Christmas and New Years were over, and now it was just plain cold. It was the middle of winter, with no end in sight.

Jim pushed himself out of his chair, his long body unfolding to it's full height. Pam obviously needed cheering up and he saw that as his job, a job much more important than selling paper for a failing company. He rested his elbows on her desk, his shoulder hunched up around his slightly-large ears. He wondered sometimes if she ever felt it too, the intimate nature of this everyday gesture. When he was so close he could see the speckles of green in her eyes. "So, did you pack your swimsuit?" he asked, smiling.

Pam looked up, happy to have company. If it had been anyone but Jim, she might have been startled. But they were so close now, that she was subconsciously aware of where he was all of the time. All best friends were like that, right? "Of course!" she smiled. "It's the middle of January. Why wouldn't I pack my swimsuit for something like this?" Jim laughed at her sarcastic tone, and she sighed. "I'm just hoping it's not bowling again."

"Pam Beesley!" Jim exclaimed with mock indignation. "Have you no faith in our great leader?" Pam simply sent him an exasperated look, and Jim chuckled. "I don't know Pam, I think one of my favorite memories of this office is seeing a drunk Meredith beat Michael at bowling."

Pam laughed. "That was pretty priceless." she admitted. "Ooh, remember how, to keep Meredith from winning, Dwight tried to chase her bowling ball down the alley and stop it from hitting the pins?"

"Dwight got kicked out of the bowling alley and Meredith won anyway" Jim grinned, remembering. "And he's always going on about how he can outrun an ostrich."

"Now that's a race I would like to see."

Jim was about to reply when Michael barged out of his office. "Okay everybody, I have an announcement to make!"

Dwight rushed from his chair to stand next to Michael. "Listen up, boys and girls!" he bellowed, clapping his hands.

"God, it just gets me so hot when he starts acting all _authoritative_." Jim whispered to Pam. She snorted, trying to stifle her laughter, and Jim began to laugh too. "What was _that,_ Beesley?" he asked. "Was that a snort?! Very unladylike."

"Hey, hey, _hey_!" Michael said, shaking a finger at Jim and Pam. "If you guys would listen up, I think you will all be pleasantly surprised! Now, as you know," Michael turned so he could address the cameras as well as his employees. "We have our great group-building exercise today! But this time, Corporate decided the because of the possible downsizing," he emphasized 'possible' "they decided it was time for a company-wide group-building weekend!"

People shifted in their seats, turning to whisper to each other. Pam crossed her fingers. _God, I hope it's not camping… _she thought.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Michael announced "We are going to _Florida!_"

Pam looked at Jim wide-eyed, and he looked back at her, equally shocked. "Wait, Michael," Jim said "Is this a joke?"

Michael's pride was obvious, his chest puffed out and his smile enormous. "I never joke about group-building, Jim! Nope, we have already spoken to your families, and we are all set to fly down to Florida for the weekend! We leave tonight!"

Pam looked a bit panicked. "Wait, we have time to go home and pack first, right?"

Dwight looked at Pam condescendingly. "Pam, Michael already told you what you needed to bring. If you didn't come prepared, that's your fault."

Pam was torn between excitement and frustration. "I packed an overnight bag, just in case, but I didn't actually think we needed a swimsuit! I didn't bring a ski mask either, is _that_ still on the mandatory list?!" she said to Jim. "Did you actually bring everything?"

"Actually, I did." Jim nodded. "Partially because I thought it was funny, and also because I used to be a boy scout. 'Always be prepared', Pam." he smiled at her, matching Dwight's condescending tone.

"Well I was a girl scout, and all we ever did was march in the 4th of July parade in my town." Pam huffed. She was actually pretty thrilled about all of this though. God knew she needed some time away from this weather, and she and Roy had been fighting more lately. It was mostly over stupid stuff, but Pam knew there was a bigger issue.

"Well, I promise you can borrow my ski mask." Jim promised.

Kelly, after smothering Ryan in celebratory kisses, overheard Pam and Jim's conversation. "Oh, Pam! I bought two new swimsuits, just in case, and you can _totally_ borrow one!" She grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Oh, um-" but before Pam could answer, Kelly had already skipped away again. Pam bit her lip nervously. It was really nice of Kelly to offer, but Pam wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of wearing one of Kelly's skimpy, most-likely hot pink bathing suits. Pam could just buy one there, but she wasn't sure it was totally worth it. _Oh well, _she thought, resigned to the idea. Now that that was taken care of, she could just be happy about going to Florida!

Everyone was milling about the office excitedly, and Pam got up from behind her desk to stand next to Jim. "Can you believe this?!" she said, getting into the unusually upbeat vibe.

Jim chuckled, shaking his head. "Not really!" he said. "It seems kind of ridiculous that with all the problems Dunder-Mifflin is having, they decide it's a great time to send all their employees to Florida. But I'm not about to complain. Hey," Jim suddenly felt awkward "do you think they're paying for warehouse staff to come too?"

It worried Pam a little bit, that after hearing this news she hadn't even thought to ask if Roy was going to be coming. She had just been excited about spending a weekend with Jim, and all of her other co-workers of course. "Um, I don't know…" she said. "Hey Michael?"

"Yeees Miss Pamela?" Michael said, sliding up to Pam's side. "I can't wait to see what great little bikini number you have!"

Pam winced, ignoring Michael's last comment. "Is, uh, warehouse staff coming too?"

Michael sighed. Figures that during his big moment, someone would have to point out a flaw. "No, unfortunately Corporate decided that it was expensive enough to send all their office employees, so warehouse is not invited." Michael shook his head, disappointed. "Corporate obviously just don't see the value of group moral." He then wandered away, going up to groups of people and fishing for compliments.

It took everything Jim had to hide his grin when he heard warehouse wasn't coming, but he didn't do a great job. He knew the camera caught it, and when he saw the questioning look on Pam's face, he covered. "I just can't wait to see Kevin in a swimsuit."

Pam laughed as Michael walked back up to the front of the office. "Alright everybody, grab your bags! Let's move it on out!" People began getting their things and putting on their coats, still chatting animatedly.

Jim shrugged on his coat, and he held up Pam's for her so she could slide her arms through. She loved it when he did that. Once her coat was resting on her shoulders, Jim spontaneously slid his hand under her hair to gently lift it from underneath her jacket. She felts shivers dance down her spine when his long fingers brushed the nape of her neck, and she looked at him, surprised. He simply smiled, and offered her his arm. Blushing, she accepted it and he escorted her to the elevator.

The elevator was packed, and Pam stood with her back pressed to Jim's chest. She barely came up to his chin, and he couldn't help but discreetly smell her hair. He loved how she always smelled like strawberries, even without any perfume. His heart skipped a beat as she looked up into his eyes, still grinning happily, and he thought _This is going to be quite a weekend._

AN: So yeah! Um, I think this fic could be really fun but I won't continue it if I don't get reviews. Not to make it sounds like a ransom or something… "Give me 20 reviews or you'll never see the rest of this story"…

Basically, just review. I really love reviews.


	2. Chapter 2

-1AN: So I was totally joking about the 20 reviews! But I love it anyway. Well, since everyone has been so cool about reviewing, I decided to write again and get another chapter up today. Thank you so much for reviewing!

Normally Pam hated airports. They always smelled slightly off, the lines were huge and everything about it was just so horribly bland. You essentially had to fight your way through check-in (Michael, since he knew what was going to happen and had come prepared, had managed to pack three full suitcases). But somehow, being with Jim made it not so bad. When he noticed her stretching her tense neck muscles, he lifted her duffle bag from her shoulder and rested it on his own without saying a word.

Pam smiled up at him gratefully, slightly flustered. "Thanks."

"No problem. Just know that I expect you to carry _all_ of my luggage for the rest of the trip."

Security was even worse than the check-in. The camera crew had decided that they couldn't miss whatever kinds of office escapades that might occur in Florida, and they had paid for their own last-minute tickets. Pam didn't mind the camera crew; she was pretty good friends with some of the camera guys. But it took forever to get the equipment through security. The officers had made everyone take off their shoes, and Pam had unfortunately caught a glimpse of Creed's infamous, four-toed foot. She was pretty sure that she could have died happy at never seeing _that. _However, both Jim and Pam agreed that when security confiscated Dwight's spud gun, it totally made up for it.

"Hey," Pam's eyebrows furrowed "Did Dwight know about Florida?"

"Nope." Jim replied. "Michael actually managed to keep this a secret."

"So…that means that Dwight just brought the spud gun to work today. For no reason."

Jim was silent. Finally, he just started to laugh. "Yes." he said. "Yes he did, Pam."

Once they had made it to their gate though, Pam really began to have fun. Jim taught her the game "Hot Potato", and soon Pam was giggling uncontrollably. Kevin whipped a pack of cards out of nowhere, and soon several of the office mates and a few of the camera guys were involved in a high-stakes game of poker. So far, the pot consisted of Meredith's hairbrush, one of Phyllis' half-used lipsticks, a pack of gum and a handful of change. But as soon as Dwight threw in one of his socks, everyone folded.

"Hey, you wanna run get some magazines before the flight or something?" Jim asked, getting to his feet. Pam nodded, and offered her hands to Jim so he could pull her up. He grasped both of her hands in his and pulled, but a little too enthusiastically. Pam was drawn up and directly into Jim, their faces mere inches apart, her body suddenly flush against his. She suddenly found it very hard to breath.

Jim decided that he never wanted to move again. He just wanted to stand there forever, looking right into her eyes. He suddenly realized that she could probably feel his heart pounding inside his ribcage, thrilled beyond belief at this rare contact.

"Hey Jim!" a voice broke the two out of their reverie, and they shot apart, each coughing or adjusting their outfit. It turns out the voice was Michael, who had not looked up from cell phone and remained totally unaware of the awkwardness that now hung heavily in the air. "When you go to the magazine cart, do you think you could grab me some Big Red and a Maxim?"

Jim rebounded quickly, refusing to show the others how much moments like that meant to him. He would dwell on it later. "Um…" Jim pretended to consider Michael's request. "No, Michael. You're a big boy, get your own Maxim."

Michael groaned. "_God!_" he said. "I get everyone a free trip to Florida, and no one is even _grateful_!"

"Wasn't it Corporate that did that?" Jim asked, mock confused. He chuckled to himself as Michael slouched down in his chair, crossed his arms and proceeded to sulk.

"I'll get it for you Michael!" Dwight yelled before rushing off to the magazine cart. Pam giggled, and she and Jim followed at a more leisurely pace.

xxxx

As it got closer and closer to time to board the plane, Pam noticed that Jim was becoming more and more agitated. By the time they had gotten in line to have their boarding passes checked, he was nearly jumping out of his skin, constantly fidgeting with his cuffs and picking at his fingernails.

"Hey," Pam whispered "are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm totally fine. Awesome." Jim said hastily, his eyes glued to the planes that were taking off outside.

Something suddenly occurred to Pam. "Jim? Are you afraid of flying?" she asked.

Jim sighed. "Don't say anything, okay? It's really stupid." he winced, expecting her to laugh at him.

Under regular circumstances, Pam might have teased him a little bit, but she could see right now that he was legitimately scared. "It's not stupid!" she reassured him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her heart broke a little bit when she felt him trembling slightly. "Want to hear something stupid?"

Jim nodded desperately, crossing his arms over his chest. Anything to take his mind off of boarding that plane. The line was getting shorter, and he could feel himself start to sweat.

"Well," Pam's voice turned into a whisper. "I used to be afraid of…dolphins."

Jim couldn't help but laugh outright.

"It's not funny!" Pam protested, but she laughed along with him anyway. "Everyone sees a dolphin and thinks 'oh, how nice!'! But I just don't trust their beady little eyes. And why are they smiling all the time anyway?! Oh God, don't even get me _started_ on that creepy little noise they make!" Pam shivered.

"It sounds to me like you still have yet to overcome this fear." Jim said, still chuckling, and he felt himself relax a bit. He was still a far cry from okay, but he was no longer about to run away. They were next in line to get on the plane.

Pam slipped her hand into his, lacing their fingers together. She felt a pleasant tingle deep in her stomach at how well their hands fit together, her thumb caressing the smooth skin on the back of his hand. "Deep breaths." she whispered, before handing the smiling flight attendant her boarding pass.

If anything, her touch made his heart speed up instead of calming it down. But his breaths evened and steeling his nerves, he handed the flight attendant his boarding pass before following Pam onto the plane. He realized then that he would probably follow her anywhere.

xxxx

Jim was hit with a blast of cold air as he entered the plane, and he could feel his arms spike with goose bumps. It smelled, and the pilot looked more like Ken the doll with his plastered-on smile, instead of like a man who could land a 747. He didn't realize that his hold on Pam's hand had become a death grip, his fingers locking tightly around hers, but she didn't say anything. She smiled at him reassuringly. "I don't know why they always make it so damn cold." she said, making a face. Jim managed a smile that was more of a grimace.

They found their seats in a row for three. Kevin had already claimed the window seat, looking out of the window onto the tarmac gleefully. "Do you want the middle or the aisle?" Pam asked softly.

"Aisle, if you don't mind." Jim said shortly. _Deep breaths deep breaths deep breaths, _Jim kept telling himself. Nodding, Pam threw her bag in the overhead bin and scooted in next to Kevin, who didn't so much as glance at her. Jim sat and immediately buckled his seatbelt, looking around him nervously at each noise the plane made. He had let go of Pam's hand in order to get settled, but he quickly found it again. He didn't care what anyone thought at this point, he needed her touch to keep him grounded right now. He flinched as he heard something whir deep in the belly of the plane.

"Hey," Jim could feel Pam's breath hot on his ear. "Do you have your iPod?"

Jim nodded slightly. "It's in my bag." he said, turning to look at her. Just looking at her calmed him down.

"Do you want to listen it so you don't have to listen to all that technical stuff?" Pam asked. He was surprised that she had noticed how much the noises bothered him. He nodded again, and she smiled. She felt around on the floor until she found Jim's messenger bag and lifted it into her lap. Discovering the iPod, she slipped the bag back onto the floor, handing Jim one earbud and keeping the other for herself.

"Let's see…" she muttered to herself, scrolling through his music. She loved his taste in music. Everything from Johnny Cash, to Modest Mouse. Her eyes lit up when she found Neutral Milk Hotel, and she carefully selected her favorite song. As the music flowed through the wires that connected them, Jim sighed, letting himself fall into the song:

_What a beautiful face I have found in this place_

_  
That is circling all round the sun,_

_  
What a beautiful dream that could flash_

_  
on the screen in a blink of an eye_

_  
and be gone from me soft and sweet_

_  
Let me hold it close and keep it here with me._

Pam felt her eyelids grow heavy, and she was vaguely aware of her head drooping to rest upon Jim's solid shoulder. Already half-asleep, she nestled against him, trying to get comfortable in the confining airplane seat.

Jim let his eyes close as well, focusing on the music and not the feeling of his stomach dropping as the plane took off. He rested his head gently on top of hers, the smell of strawberries overwhelming the stale smell of the plane. He smiled, letting himself drift off to sleep, knowing he would wake up in Florida with her.

AN: It's funny isn't it, how Jim Halpert's taste in music is identical to mine? Coincidence I guess. Anyway, the song is _In the Aeroplane Over the Sea_ by Neutral Milk hotel, an amazing band. I also have included the rules of Hot Potato, for those of you who are unfamiliar.

Rules of Hot Potato: Okay, so Person #1 holds both of their hands out in front of them, palms facing upward. Then, Person #2 places their hands facing down on top of Person #1's hands. Then, Person #1 had to try and slap the back of Person #2's hands before Person #2 can pull their hands away. Once Person #1 gets Person #2, their roles switch. Got it? Good.


	3. Chapter 3

-1Kevin was in heaven. More specifically, Kevin was having an awesome dream about Stacy and this girl he'd seen in a magazine. Together. _Niiice._

Just as it was getting good Stacy opened her mouth and said in a man's voice: "Ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing in approximately five minutes. Please put your chairs in the upright positions and your tray tables away. We hope you enjoyed your flight with American Airlines." _That's not right…_ Kevin thought to himself, puzzled. He then woke up, realizing where he was. He was kind of disappointed that the dream had been interrupted, but Stacy speaking with a man's voice had ruined it anyway.

He sat up and yawned, batting away the tiny pillow that had gotten stuck to his face. He looked around, seeing that most people were awake. With the exception of Meredith, who was still slumped over her tray table, which was scattered with tiny bottles of alcohol. Kevin looked to his side, and saw that Jim and Pam were still asleep as well. Jim had his arm wrapped around Pam, her head resting on his shoulder, her face perfectly nestled into his neck.

_Who do they think they're kidding?_ Kevin thought, bemused. Even Kevin could tell what was between them, and he was usually the last to know about everything. Especially accounting stuff, thanks to Angela. _Dude, Jim's so lucky. Pam is SUCH a babe._ Kevin found himself momentarily distracted by the way that Pam's shirt was gaping slightly open. _Oh man, if Pam and Stacy hooked up, that would be so awesome. _Pam moved and murmured something in her sleep, pulling Kevin out of his thoughts. He realized he should probably wake them up now. "Uh, Jim? Pam?"

xxxx

Jim remained deep asleep, but Pam began to stir ever so slightly, her eyes fluttering open. Her eyelashes brushed lightly against Jim's neck, and he squirmed in his sleep. Pam wanted to ignore the low, dull voice that was calling her name; she was far too comfortable to move. She burrowed further into Jim's side, taking in his smell…wait -- _Jim? Crap… _It hit her suddenly that she was quite happily curled up against Jim's chest in front off all their co-workers. _Double crap._

She sat straight upright in her seat, blushing furiously and turned to see Kevin give her one of his gleeful smiles. It didn't take a mind reader to tell what he was thinking. Pam gave him an admonishing look and his face fell. He pointedly turned away from her to look out the window and Pam felt a twinge of guilt. Kevin was a fairly harmless guy, but the last thing that she needed was for him to say something to Michael.

"Hey, Jim, wake up." She nudged Jim in the ribs, maybe a little bit harder than necessary. Pam felt more than a little embarrassed; she didn't want anyone in the office to think something was going on between them when there wasn't. They were just good friends.

Jim jerked awake when she nudged him a second time. "Mmph, what the hell?" he said drowsily, his eyes still heavy from sleep.

Pam couldn't help but smile; his hair was tousled, and the flimsy airplane blanket barely covered a third of his lanky body. He rubbed a hand over his face and stretched his arms upward, his fingers grazing the low ceiling.

"We're here." she said, tearing her eyes away from him to start gathering her things and putting her shoes on. She reached up to scratch her head and groaned when she felt her hair, tangled and knotted from sleep. "Oh God," she lamented, "my hair's a total bird's nest."

"A 'bird's nest', Beesley?" Jim chuckled. "Don't worry about it, you look gr- fine." Pam couldn't help but notice as he tripped over his words, and she smiled inwardly.

"Cause you're such a hair expert?" Pam said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

"Oh my god."

"What?"

"You just looked like Angela with frizzy hair."

Pam laughed loudly and gasped, slapping Jim's arm playfully. "Below the belt, Halpert!"

Jim stuck out his tongue mockingly.

Pam managed to borrow a hairbrush from Kelly (who had actually brought five) and threw her hair up in a bun. She knew that sharing hairbrushes was against everything the elementary school nurse had ever taught her, but she was on vacation. Might as well live a little.

xxxx

They finally got off the plane and Pam smiled when Jim all but kissed the carpet, ecstatic to be on solid ground. They walked out of the Miami Airport and were welcomed by a gust of warm air, tangy and salty from the sea. Everyone began to laugh and talk, giddy like children. _It's funny how something like the weather can change people so much,_ Jim thought, watching Stanley laugh and grin genuinely. The warmth and sunlight seemed to take years off of Phyllis' age, and even Angela managed to refrain from commenting on the 'debauchery' that infested Miami.

People started to strip off their sweaters and jackets, letting the sun embrace their skin. Jim gasped softly when he saw Pam and he only just managed to cover it with a cough. She had taken off her wrinkled, button-down blouse, now wearing just a camisole that revealed her delicate shoulders and collarbone. The cami also left a strip of skin right above the top of her skirt exposed, and it looked so soft that Jim ached to brush it with his fingertips, just once. She was beaming, her face turned towards the sky as the sun's rays highlighted streaks of gold in her hair. He just knew she would freckle more than tan, and it made him love her all the more.

"So Michael, what is our transportation situation?" Dwight asked, his eyes squinting from the glare.

"Already taken care of, my loyal friend." Michael grinned. "Here they come now."

"Where?" Phyllis asked, scanning the cars that turned the corner.

"There!" Michael said proudly.

Everyone stared, openmouthed. "Oh _hell_ no." Stanley said, looking at the monstrosities that slowed to a stop before them. Idling before them were two behemoth vans that were maybe white underneath the years of grime, rust lining the bottoms of the doors and the hubcaps. They were obviously far past their prime, and one of them coughed pitifully before its engine rumbled to a stop. The camera crew hastily began to set up as everyone continued to look at the vans in disbelief.

Creed whistled. "Those things are older than me!"

Michael tipped the two bored teenage boys who had brought the vans around, and turned to address the camera as everyone hesitantly began to load up their bags. "Do you know how _expensive_ it is to take your whole company to Florida?!" Michael said indignantly. "Well, for those of you who don't know, it's _a lot_! We had to save some money where we could! I tried my best to get the stretch Hummers, but Jan got mad. PMSing or something, I don't know." he shrugged.

Pam gasped, and then began to laugh when Dwight put one of Michael's bags in the trunk and the van visibly sank a few inches. "This is a safety hazard!" she said, eyeing the van incredulously.

"Shhh, Pam!" Jim admonished. "You'll hurt their feelings!" He stroked the side of one of the vans, murmuring softly, "It's okay baby, she didn't mean it."

Pam grinned and Toby snickered quietly, shaking his head. "I still can't believe Corporate agreed to this-" he started to say.

"Hey, you! Nice shirt! Take it off!" a voice called from behind them.

Pam thought she recognized that voice, and her face fell. "Oh no…" she said aghast, before turning around to see who it was.

"_Pacman_! The Packster!" Michael cried out joyously, running up to his best friend Todd Packer. "It's Todd Packer everybody!" Michael called out. Todd Packer didn't really need any introduction. He had been a revisiting plague on the Scranton branch ever since Jim had worked there and probably long before that as well. "I didn't know you were coming, you sly dog!" Michael clapped Packer on the back.

"You think I'd miss this?!" Packer replied. "Man, the chicks out here are _loco_! Hot babes everywhere, _all the time_. I am going to _get my freak on_ if you know what I'm sayin'!" He gyrated his hips for emphasis as Michael practically giggled, playing the perfect audience. Their relationship was not so much that of two best friends, but more of a "cool" older brother and his tag-along little brother. Michael essentially worshiped Packer.

Pam just stood next to Jim, her arms crossed. "I hope he gets Chlamydia."

Jim snickered, loving the bitterness in Pam's voice. "You have a mean streak, Pam Beesly."

Toby shook his head. "I don't know if it's mean to wish Chlamydia upon Todd Packer. I think it's just kinda karma." He shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed.

Michael began herding people into the vans, Dwight assisting him in any way he could. Pam was first into one of the vans, crouching to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling. There were four rows of seats, covered in that awful fake brown leather found on most standard school buses. The van was stiflingly hot, obviously having sat in the sun for a while. "Holy God!" Pam said, almost in awe of the wreck that was their van. She took a seat in the back and Jim followed her.

"Oh my _God!_" he said, covering his mouth and nose. The van already carried some kind of stench, and the heat only intensified it. He took a seat next to Pam, eyeing one of the stains on the floor. "I don't even want to know what that is."

Pam smiled, despite the miserable conditions. "If someone had asked you yesterday what you would be doing today, would you have ever guessed this?"

"Nope. Never in a million years." Jim replied. He winced and scrambled for his seatbelt as he saw Dwight take the drivers seat.

"Hey Dwight, crank the air conditioning!" Oscar called from the back. He had already removed his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt.

Dwight grudgingly pushed in the button for air conditioning. Everyone waited in silence. Nothing. Pam gingerly put her fingers in front of the vent next to her, hoping for the tiniest breeze. Nothing.

"Oh _HELL_ no." Stanley said again.

With that, they were off.

**AN: A few things:**

1) I don't own American Airlines. Or Hummer. Really.

2) So yeah, I don't know how they fit all of the office and all of the camera crew in two vans. Maybe it's like a clown car. Or the vans are the size of a monster truck. If you could, just kind of ignore some of the improbabilities…it's worth it for Jam.

3) It's really hard to spell Chlamydia.

4) Your reviews have been _amazing_! Some great ideas and some good constructive criticism too. I'm sorry about my grammar, I love writing but I hate the technicalities of it! So I had GreenFish beta this chapter (which was great), and I'd love to have more opinions.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: I'm SO sorry it's taken me so long to update! Like, really, really, really sorry. My laptops been on the fritz, and things have just been hectic. Hopefully, I'll be writing regularly again soon.

Jim Halpert was about to die.

"Pam…" Jim whispered, his voice harsh from thirst. "I know that Death is coming for me, and I-I just have to tell you-"

"Oh, suck it up, Halpert," Pam grinned, rolling her eyes.

Jim grew indignant. "Hey!" he said. "Is that any way to treat your dying best friend?"

"The rest of us have been in this van for two hours, too, crybaby."

Jim looked at Pam suspiciously. "Pam, I have a question for you." Pam turned towards him, eyebrows raised. "How are you not disgustingly sweaty?"

Pam simply looked at him. "Girls don't sweat."

Jim laughed out loud. "I hate you," he said, and Pam giggled. He had decided a few years ago that one of his favorite things in the world was making her laugh.

Oscar turned towards the two, his face pained. "Has it really been two hours, Pam?" he asked. Pam nodded as Oscar began to shake his head. "No. No, this is it. I'm at the end of my rope. Dwight, _just find a rest stop!_"

Dwight turned around to glare at Oscar. "We must not lose momentum! Remain strong!"

"Dwight, I _don't care_! Would you please just stop the van?" Oscar was nearly yelling, which was uncharacteristic of his otherwise calm personality.

"We really could use a rest stop, Dwight." Pam said, crossing her fingers in hopes that Dwight would listen.

"DWIGHT, LOOK AT THE ROAD!" Jim yelled as the van began drifting towards the guardrail. Dwight jumped in his seat and turned around, jerking the steering wheel back sharply to avoid a collision. Someone behind them honked.

Jim sighed, turning to one of the cameramen. "This is why I always drove on our sales calls…" he said, and the cameraman laughed.

"Dwight, perhaps a rest stop would be in order." a firm voice called from the middle seat.

xxxx

_Yes! Thank you, Angela! _Pam cheered mentally. She knew that Dwight answered to only two people: Michael, who was driving the other car, and Angela. Pam watched, delighted, as Dwight's eyes flickered from the road to the rear-view mirror in which he could see Angela, sitting with her hands folded. Dwight gritted his teeth, obviously conflicted.

Finally, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Using the walkie-talkie feature, he whispered, "Hawkmaster, this is BalrogTamer. Do you copy?"

An exasperated voice emerged from the static. "What is it, Dwight?"

Dwight was stubborn. "_Hawkmaster,_ this is _BalrogTamer_. Do you _copy_?"

"Dwight, don't be an _idiot_."

Dwight was silent for a moment. "Um, they want to go to a rest stop. Is that okay?"

"Yes Dwight. Now shut up."

Jim pumped his fist in the air, grinning as Dwight took the next exit.

xxxx

"We're here, everybody." Dwight announced somewhat bitterly, as the van came to a grinding halt in front of a Country Inn hotel. Jim couldn't keep himself from cheering, while Oscar closed his eyes in pure relief.

They all tumbled out of the van all at once, eager to stretch their legs and get some fresh air. Dwight had limited their rest stop to five minutes, timing them on his calculator/watch/stopwatch. Jim was already plotting on how to get his hands on the watch; he figured he would have to discuss with Pam the best possible route to take for a prank.

Taking in his surroundings, Jim noticed that Michael's van had already unloaded. He wandered up to Michael, who was joking and laughing with Todd Packer. Despite the nearly three hour-long car ride, Michael appeared completely energized. Jim wanted to know how long any group building was going to take, but it was one of his cardinal rules to avoid Todd Packer. Weighing his options in his mind, he just decided to get it over with. _Just do it quick, like a band-aid, _he thought.

"Hey, Michael," Jim said cautiously, recognizing the wild look in Michael's eyes. Michael had a notorious sweet tooth, and when he had too much sugar he could be worse than a five year old. Apparently, someone had let Michael buy candy at a rest area.

"Heeeeeeeere's Johnny!" Michael cried out, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his head tilted back in laughter.

"Uh, my name's Jim. Not Johnny**." **Jim made a face at the camera as it focused in on him and Michael.

"What's up, Jim? Whaddaya got for me? Are you as _psyched_ as me to be in _Vero Beach_?" Michael punched Jim in the arm.

Jim nodded, rubbing his arm. "Okay, ow," he said.

"Oh, did that hurt, _queer_?!" Todd Packer sneered. "Jeez, Halpert, don't be such a little _bitch_!"

Jim ignored Packer. "So, Michael, we're in Vero Beach."

"Yup." Michael's eyes were darting back and forth.

"Um, did someone give you sugar, Michael?"

Michael nodded enthusiastically. "And _caffeine!_" he added. "I am a caffeine _fiend_!" he said in a creepy, high-pitched voice.

"Hey, Halpert," Packer said in a low whisper. "So, you gotta be hittin' _that_, right?" Packer nodded his head at someone behind Jim, and Jim turned to see Pam talking to Phyllis and Kelly.

Uncomfortable couldn't even begin to cover what Jim was feeling right then. "She's engaged," he said shortly, looking away from Pam. With her hair up in a bun like that, he could see the small, tightly wound curls that hid shyly at the nape of her neck. He tried to change the subject. "Michael, do you know when the group-"

"So _what_?" Packer laughed, interrupting Jim. "Man, could you be any more _gay_?"

Jim felt his face flush from anger. "Apparently not."

Packer wouldn't let it go. "Man, I can't wait to see _that_ piece of ass in a bikini. I bet you twenty dollars that by the end of this trip, I will have _nailed_ that chick into the ground…"

Jim always thought that people were exaggerating when they said that they got so angry they 'saw red'. It seemed so cheesy and Hollywood. But suddenly, Jim literally heard the blood pounding in his ears, and his vision became hazy with crimson. The next thing he knew, his fists were gripping the front of Todd Packer's shirt, and he had somehow backed the much larger man into the wall of Vero Beach's Country Inn.

Jim thought he maybe heard Michael protesting in the background, but he didn't bother to take his eyes from Todd Packer's shocked, furious face. "Don't you ever, _ever _go near her. You aren't even allowed to _talk_ about her." He was vaguely aware that everyone near them had gone completely silent. He then felt a small hand on his shoulder.

It was her. Of _course_ it was her. "Jim?" Her voice was soft and gentle; it caused his anger to dissolve immediately. His arms dropped to his sides. "C'mon Jim, let's go check in." He turned to look down at her as she linked her arm into his. Her eyes were calm and she smiled. He couldn't help but smile back.

He heard Todd Packer cursing behind him as Michael tried to calm him down. "Halpert, you're gonna fucking pay for that, you little faggot!"

"Oh, dear," Phyllis said faintly.

Jim turned around, despite Pam's best efforts, about to say something, but Michael spoke first. "That's enough, Todd." Jim was surprised at the steel in Michael's voice.

"Are you _shittin'_ me?" Packer said incredulously.

Michael ignored him. "C'mon, everyone, let's get inside. We obviously need some group building!" The tension in the air was still heavy, but for once, everyone listened to Michael. People grabbed their bags, and followed Michael into the Country Inn.

AN: Hey, so I know there was some pretty strong language in this (thank Todd Packer for that!). But I'm sorry if anyone was at all offended. Also, I know some parts might be a little bit unbelievable, but I feel like I've been writing Michael kinda mean so far, and I felt bad. He needed a little redemption, and he does have a way of coming through when it's necessary.

And I still love reviews. Sooooooooo much. They might even convince me to keep writing even though I have to use my house's main computer instead of my laptop. (You know those ugly, huge, horrible vans that the office had to ride in? Imagine them in computer form. That's what I'm working with.)

Also, I don't own Country Inn.


	5. Chapter 5

-1AN: Sorry this took so long! I had a little writer's block for a while, and then I went on vacation. But I hope this chapter suffices (it's also extra-long to make up for lost time!)

Pam could tell from Jim's body language that he _really _didn't want to talk about his run-in with Todd Packer. She figured maybe they could sneak away from the group later to talk about it; she couldn't help but be incredibly curious about what had driven Jim to that point. She had never seen him do anything like that before. She looked around the small, generically "cozy" front hall of the Inn, packed with Dunder-Mifflin employees. Pam smiled up at Jim, re-shouldering her duffle bag. "You know, I'm feeling a little bit of receptionist-solidarity here."

Jim chuckled. "Yeah, especially the one that's dealing with Dwight," he gestured towards a frantic-looking receptionist at the front desk. They could hear Dwight all the way across the room.

"No! This is completely unacceptable!" Dwight pounded the desk with his fist, and the receptionist jumped.

"I-I'm sorry sir, but we're completely booked with your party, and we, we can't move you anywhere else-"

"Why can't I just room with Michael?" Dwight whined.

"No Dwight," Michael said. "I requested a single room specifically for when I entertain all of the beach bunnies. King-sized bed ladies!" he called out, laughing at his own 'audacity'.

Dwight placed both of his hands firmly on the desk and leaned forward, squinting his eyes in what he hoped was an intimidating fashion. "I refuse to room with Jim Halpert," he hissed.

Jim walked up behind Dwight as placed a hand on his shoulder, which Dwight tried valiantly to shrug off. "Uh, hey buddy, what's the problem?"

"Shut up, Jim. This doesn't concern you."

Jim ignored him and shrugged. "C'mon Dwight, seriously, it's not a big deal." Dwight pressed his lips together tightly, and said nothing. Jim retrieved his key as Pam went to the next available receptionist, and he waited for her to sign in. "So who're you with?" he asked.

Pam rolled her eyes. "Angela," she sighed. "I hope she doesn't think my pajamas are too 'whorish.'"

Jim raised his eyebrows. "Well, Pam…"

Pam gave Jim a reprimanding look but he just smiled, knowing she didn't really mean it..

"Okay guys, listen up!" Michael shouted, much more loudly than necessary. "Scranton branch, over here!" People slowly began to gather around Michael, and he seemed surprised that they were actually listening to him. "Well, um, just get all your stuff together everybody, and we'll meet in the dining room in fifteen minutes for our first group-building exercise." He clapped his hands enthusiastically, but that didn't keep people from groaning audibly. Michael's group-building exercises were infamously awful.

Jim nudged Stanley with his elbow as they headed towards the elevator. "So, are you excited for the group-building exercise?" he joked.

Stanley looked at Jim, his face the picture of boredom. "Are you kiddin' me? I'll see y'all in a little bit. I'm going to take a nap."

xxxx

Jim met Pam in the hallway outside their rooms and they rode down the elevator together, just like they did at the end of each workday. Since their branch's rooms were booked together they were all on the same floor. Once they reached the dining room, they were surprised to find all of the tables except for one pushed to the side. Pam groaned, hoping that this wasn't what she thought it was. At Jim's questioning look, she said "I think I recognize this from a school trip we took in middle school."

Before Jim could ask what she thought it was, Michael jogged into the room. Several people exchanged confused glances when they saw that Michael had changed into workout clothes. "Is everyone here?" he asked Dwight, who was taking attendance.

"Stanley refused to participate. I'll punish him for you later. Otherwise, everyone is here except for Toby-"

"Well that's fine," Michael smiled, looking around. "Okay people," he began, "a very important part of being a team is trusting each other. That is why we are going to start with the Trust Fall!"

"Oh no," Pam said, shaking her head with disbelief.

Jim looked at her, wide-eyed. "What?"

She winced. "Sixth grade flashbacks."

"I do _not_ like the sound of this," Jim said.

"Now everybody," Michael rubbed his hands together, "one by one we are going to climb up onto this table, and fall _backwards_ into the open arms of our co-workers! Now, I know some of you might be nervous," he laughed, "but since there are so many of us, there's no way you'll fall! This is a great way for us to build on the already great trust we have amongst us."

"I don't know if I trust Angela to catch Kevin," Jim whispered to Pam as she tried unsuccessfully to stifle her sudden laughter.

"Pam, c'mon, this is serious," Michael said, glaring at her.

Dwight couldn't help but chime in: "Yeah, Pam, if you don't take this seriously, I will have to remove you."

Pam apologized quietly, then glared at Jim. He smiled sweetly.

Michael organized everyone so that they were facing each other in two lines that were perpendicular to the table. Once everyone was lined up, he called out "Okay, now who would like to go first?"

"Why aren't you going first, Michael?" Kevin asked.

"Well, Kevin, I need to help facilitate the process first."

"But why don't you go first to show us you trust us?" Meredith said.

"Meredith, just- I- just don't _question_ me, okay?! Part of good teamwork is leadership, and I am the leader of this ship." Meredith just rolled her eyes, and Michael asked again, "So, who is going to go first?"

"You guys have nothing to worry about," Dwight said seriously, "because if all else fails, I have the ability to catch a 300-pound pig from a 20 foot drop."

Michael groaned. "Dwight, how do you even know that- just, just shut it, okay? Now, who's going first?"

After a few moments of silence, finally Creed said, "Okay, I'll do it."

"All _right_, Creed!" Michael cheered, clapping. "C'mon!" he said, motioning for the other office members to join in to cheer on Creed, and they clapped half-heartedly.

Creed climbed up onto the table with surprising spryness and stood with his heels at the edge of the table, his arms crossed across his chest. With no warning, he threw himself backward, his eyes closed and his body as stiff as a board. "Oh, God!" Michael cried out, shocked, but the office mates just managed to catch Creed just in time and lower him to the ground.

"Okay," Michael said weakly, breathing heavily. "Uh, I forgot to mention that uh, before you fall, there's usually a countdown. You know, you say you're ready, we say we're ready, then you countdown. Just some warning. Is good." He put his hand to his chest, as if to calm down his heart. Creed stood up, calmly brushing off his suit. "Uh, okay," Michael said, trying to rebound. "Who's going next?"

Jim raised his hand. "Jim!" Michael cried, excited at Jim's sudden participation, but Jim shook his head.

"Uh, no. But, um, Pam mentioned to me that she's done the trust fall before, and I know she really has a lot of faith in her co-workers, so…" Jim grinned at Pam, who simply looked at him in horror.

"Yes! Pam!" Michael cried. Pam shook her head mutely, waving her hands to emphasize how much she did _not_ want to do this. "C'mon, Pam, this is about faith, and trust! We promise to catch you! Just give us some warning." Pam was about to refuse again, but then she remembered how Michael had really spoken out against Todd Packer when it counted. She knew how much he actually cared about the office, and he really loved the idea of them working together as a team.

She sighed. "Okay."

Michael pumped his fist into to air and shouted "Okay! Alrighty, let's _do this thing-thang_!"

Pam walked to the edge of the table, and Jim followed her. "Do you need a hand up?" he grinned, looking satisfied.

Pam narrowed her eyes. "I hate you," she said, but her words held no real venom.

Jim laughed. "C'mon Pam, it's time to build trust in your office-mates." He offered his hand, as if escorting her into a carriage. She took it, and his grip was dry and firm.

"You better catch me," she warned him.

"Always," Jim said and though his tone was light, the seriousness in his eyes made Pam's heart clench. She quickly looked away, no matter how much she didn't want to. She and Jim…they were just friends. Always had been. And even though- even if she wanted something more, she was with Roy. And besides, Jim was such a great guy, he deserved better than her. Someone braver than she was.

She shook her head, as if to erase the moment, then started to climb onto the table. Jim placed his other hand, the one that wasn't holding hers, on her waist to steady her and she couldn't help her sharp intake of breath. She pushed her skirt down nervously as she finally found her footing on the table and walked to the edge. She'd always hated trust falls.

"Okay Pammy, you ready?" Michael called as Jim rejoined the other office members. Pam sighed, thinking, _God, I think I die a little inside every time either Michael or Roy calls me Pammy_.

"I'm ready," Pam said, turning her back towards the edge of the table, and crossing her arms.

"All right guys, are we ready?!" Michael asked, as the office mates grudgingly murmured their assent. "Okay, Pammy!"

"Okay, one…two…three!" Pam shut her eyes tightly, and her stomach flopped as for a brief moment, she fell through space. Before she knew it, she was being buoyed up by the arms of her co-workers. She opened her eyes, and Jim's face was the first she saw. "Hi," she whispered.

He smiled, almost shyly. "Hi."

Then, Pam felt a hand slide slowly down to her ass. "_Kevin!_"

"Sorry," Kevin muttered.

AN:

There once was a girl from Boston,

Who wrote about "The Office" quite often,

The more reviews she got, the more that she thought,

And she updated fast like a dolphin!

Um, yeah. Review!


	6. Chapter 6

-1Pam glanced at the cheap, digital hotel clock that sat on the nightstand that stood between the two beds. Its red digits told her that it was 1:48 AM. She sighed, bringing her hand roughly through her curls. She couldn't sleep. She had her sketchpad resting in her lap and her hand hovered over the page, pencil gripped loosely in her fingers. She had been trying for the past forty-five minutes to draw this stupid lamp, but for some reason it just wouldn't turn out right. She was surprised to realize that she was a little bit tired of drawing still life. While she had once taken pleasure in capturing the nuances of simple, everyday items, it now felt boring. She wanted to draw something real, something that made a statement about her.

The room was humid and stuffy, so Pam lifted herself off her bed and padded softly over to the window. She unlocked it, but when she tried to lift it up it stubbornly refused. "Oh, come _on_," she said, gritting her teeth as she threw all of her slight body weight into the effort. Angela stirred in her sleep, and Pam froze. The last thing she wanted to do was incur the wrath of a tired, grumpy Angela.

Suddenly, someone knocked on her door, a playful _rat-ta-tat-tat_. She smiled, relieved. There was no doubt about who it could be. She opened the door swiftly, grinning when she saw that it was indeed Jim. Her eyes widened slightly when she realized he was wearing just a gray t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Her mouth suddenly went dry. She was equally surprised by the miserable look on his face. She cocked her head to the side questioningly.

"There's a 12 hour marathon of Battlestar Galactica on the SciFi network," he said, his eyes miserable.

Pam chuckled, hiding her smile behind her hand. "Oh, poor baby," she crooned. Jim glared at her.

"It's not funny, Beesly!" he protested. "Dwight's determined to stay up for the whole thing, so he drank, like, eight freakin' cups of coffee. He is _off the walls_!"

"Um, well, I would totally offer you asylum here but Angela's getting her beauty sleep and hell hath no fury like… well, like Angela," Pam said, glancing back into the room. Jim groaned, running his fingers restlessly through his hair, unwittingly making it stick up in the back. Something about his tousled hair made Pam feel short of breath, and she gripped the door a little bit harder. She felt far too awake right now; her blood rushing through her so quickly, she felt lightheaded. She felt free and daring, for the first time in a while. _Maybe it's something I ate_, she thought giddily.

An idea struck her. "Hey," she whispered, "do you want to just go sit on the beach for a while? I can't sleep, and I'm bored."

Jim raised his eyebrows, his eyes wide, but the expression quickly disappeared with an ease that came from practice. "Sure," he shrugged, grinning. Pam beamed back with childish excitement.

"Uh, okay, hold on just a second," she said as she went back into the room. She tiptoed around the room, first going to a cabinet and grabbing an extra blanket to lie on the sand. After a moment of consideration she also grabbed her sketchpad and pencil. "Ready?" she asked as she slipped outside of the room and shut the door softly.

He took the blanket from her and threw it over his shoulder. "Lead the way," he said.

She grinned, heading off towards the elevator at a slight jog. She didn't know why she was running; it wasn't like they were doing something that could get them in trouble. But it still felt like she was sneaking out of her parents' house, off to have one of those late night adventures that teenagers had. She had never done that. Roy had wanted her to, but she had been too scared, too timid. But now…well, Pam wasn't positive what exactly she was doing. And it felt good.

xxxx

Pam realized after a moment that they were both barefoot, but in her excitement she couldn't care less. The pavement had still managed to retain some of the sun's heat, and it's rough warmth felt good on the soles of Pam's feet. The streets were empty and quiet, lit by the orange glow of the streetlamps.

Jim and Pam quickly found their way to the beach, walking through the dunes and sand grass before they reached the stretch of land where the sand gave way to the ocean. The waves lapped at the shore hungrily, the sound repetitive and soothing, the breeze playing with the hem of Pam's pajama pants.

"Wow," Jim said, his voice sounding breathless. When Pam turned to look at him, he simply pointed to the sky where the moon hung, heavy and full. Beams of light drifted down upon the endless expanse of ocean, making it appear as though the sea had been strewn with thousands of silver-colored jewels.

"Oh, wow," Pam murmured in agreement. She took the blanket from Jim's shoulder and beckoned as she said quietly, "C'mon." She walked a little further down the beach, then taking an edge of the blanket, unfurled it, so it floated down gently to rest on the sand. She dusted off her feet, then sat, feeling the sand shift under her weight. Jim joined her, lying back and propping himself up on his elbows, gazing off towards the illuminated water.

"Tell me something you've never told anyone else before," Pam said suddenly. Here on this beach, so far away from the tiny, claustrophobic office in Pennsylvania, she felt a random urge to know the Jim outside of work. She wanted to know about his life.

He looked at her, eyebrows slightly furrowed. "Hmm, something I've never told anyone else before?" he mused, squinting his eyes slightly in thought. He was silent for a minute and Pam waited nervously, wondering if she had crossed a line.

She was just about to speak, to tell him he didn't have to answer when he finally said, "I had a hit-and-run once. Not like a person or anything. It was, uh, only a month after I had gotten my license, and I was _so_ psyched about it. And I was backing out of a parking space and I hit a parked car. I was so freaked out, and no one was around, so I just left. I was so embarrassed, I never told anybody." His smiled drifted between shyness and amusement.

"How bad was the damage?"

Jim grimaced, then chuckled. "Pretty bad. I pretty much owned their headlights."

"Ouch," Pam laughed. "I think it's like a statistic that every teenager driver has at least one accident in their first six months of driving," she said. "I got into a fender bender at an intersection a few months after I got my license." She then smiled wickedly. "But I stayed at the scene of the crime."

Jim grinned, shaking his head. "Tell me something about yourself that you've never told anyone before," he shot back at her, his eyes daring.

She thought for a moment before something came to mind. A somber feeling rushed over her, and she looked down at her hands, picking a fingernail.

Jim sensed the shift in mood, and said, "It's okay, you know, you don't have to--"

"No, no, it's okay," Pam said, smiling weakly. "No, it's just… okay, well, one time I was home alone, and I was uh, making myself dinner, and this, this mouse scurried across the floor! And I'm totally terrified of mice, and before I knew what I was doing, I stomped on it." Her voice grew quieter. "And I just felt so awful. It was so little, and it didn't do anything wrong except run across my floor, and I killed it. I felt so guilty, I started bawling my eyes out." Pam was mortified to feel her eyes water just thinking about it. She sniffled, and hastily wiped her hand across her eyes. "I-I never told anyone about it. I mean, I wanted to tell Roy, but he'd probably think it was stupid. It _is_ stupid, just, I'd never killed anything before, and it was really, really little…" Pam sniffled again and she felt her throat thicken with tears. _Ugh, I'm such a baby! _she thought. _I'm a grown woman crying about a mouse for Christ's sake._

She looked up when she felt Jim's warm hand rest on her shoulder. "It's not stupid," he said quietly, but Pam just shook her head and laughed sadly. "No, really, it's not," he said again. "I mean, some people can kill other people without feeling any remorse at all. It takes a pretty incredible woman to feel so much guilt for accidentally killing a mouse. And it _was_ an accident," he smiled comfortingly, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear.

Pam wrapped her arms around herself, smiling and looking at Jim through her glistening eyes. She sniffed again, and groaned. "Now I'm all sniffly and gross," she said plaintively, and Jim laughed.

Her gaze fell upon her sketchbook and pencil that lay in the sand next to her. "Um, do you think I could draw you?" she asked quickly, before she lost her nerve. He looked at her, and she turned bright red. "Well, just lately -- I'm like, kind of tired of doing still life, and I thought maybe…" her voice trailed off.

"Sure," he said simply. Pam couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard a hint of nervousness in his voice. He coughed. "Um, what should I do, I mean…" his voice trailed off awkwardly as Pam flipped to a new page in her sketchbook. She was lucky the moon was full; there was just enough light for her to see by.

"Uh, I guess just…find a point in space to focus on, and try not to move too much. Are you comfortable?"

"Yeah-oh wait, hold on," he said. He lay on his back fully, crossing his arms behind his head as he gazed up at the stars.

_Perfect_, Pam thought, as she began sketch the contours of his face.

xxxx

Jim's arms had begun to cramp, but he didn't want to complain. At first he worried Pam would notice the blush creeping up his neck as she stared at him intently, but she seemed so absorbed in her work that he slowly began to relax. After a while he had made a game of trying to break her concentration by telling dirty jokes about Kevin and Meredith. She played her part by responding with mock sternness, fighting valiantly to banish the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Can I see?" he asked out of the side of his mouth, trying not to move.

"Hush!" she said reproachfully. "No moving!"

Jim lay silent for a few more moments, but when she seemed particularly involved in the drawing and wasn't looking up, he shifted forward, trying to sneak a peek. She looked up, startled, and it made his heart pound to realize how close they were. She blushed, (_She's so damn cute when she blushes_, he thought) and smacked him in the shoulder. "Hey, no!" she said, bringing her sketchpad up to hide the drawing. Despite her stern tone, she was smiling.

Jim did his best puppy dog impression (which he had been told could be deadly when used properly). "_Please_?" he said pitifully, but she just rolled her eyes.

She paused for a moment, considering. "Fine," she said grudgingly, turning an even deeper shade of red as she tossed the sketchpad to him. "It's not that good," she said quickly. "I've never really drawn people before."

Jim disregarded her comments as he looked down at the drawing in his lap. His first thought was, _Is this really how she sees me?_ It didn't look like how he saw himself, but the likeness was undeniable. He chuckled, trying to alleviate the sudden tension. "You made me look like a model, Beesly! While your technique leaves nothing to be desired, I'm afraid you've been far too generous with my looks," he said, adopting the pretentious accent of an art aficionado.

"No -- I wasn't," Pam said softly.

His heart stopped. "What?" he asked, his voice low.

Her eyes met his briefly, but before he could read them they flickered away, skittish. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "What time is it?" she asked suddenly, still not looking at him.

Jim blinked, and it took a moment for his mind to catch up to what she had asked. "Oh -- um, it's uh…" he glanced down at his watch, "it's almost quarter to four."

Pam laughed, but it was breathless and strained. "Wow, you're kidding. Uh, I guess we should probably be heading back now. I'm kind of tired." Not waiting for him to respond, she stood, and scooped up the troublesome sketchpad, the pencil already tucked behind her ear. She seemed somewhat deflated suddenly. All the girlish exuberance that had filled her earlier in the evening seemed to have fled with the encroaching dawn.

She waited for him a little ways up the beach as he stood and shook out the blanket. They walked back to the hotel in silence.

xxxx

Jim walked Pam back to her room, partly out of reluctance to return to his own room (where he knew Dwight awaited him), and partially because his mom had strongly ingrained in him that you _always_ walk a girl to her front door. _Even if that girl is someone else's fiancée?_ he bitterly asked himself.

"Oh, shit," Pam cursed, bringing Jim out of his thoughts. He couldn't help grinning; Pam swore so rarely that he was endlessly amused whenever she did.

"What's up?" he asked as she tugged hopelessly at the door handle.

She sighed. "I forgot a key," she said, "and I don't want to spend the rest of the trip with Angela mad at me because I woke her up at four in the morning to let me in. Plus," she looked at Jim hesitantly, "she'd probably be kinda, um, judgmental about me being out this late."

Jim heard her unspoken words: 'out this late _with you_.' It was astonishing to him that even some of their coworkers could pick up on what Pam herself had not. From the reprimanding looks that Angela often sent him, Jim knew what she thought of the situation. He was pretty sure that Ryan knew but couldn't care less, and he could tell from the little smile that Phyllis got whenever he and Pam were laughing about something that she wasn't fooled.

"Uh, well," he said, "I would offer you my bed and I could sleep on the floor, but that would include dealing with Dwight. An over-caffeinated Dwight."

Pam groaned and looked around. "Okay, well, I guess we'll just have to pop a squat." She sat down, leaning her back again the wall.

Jim laughed outright. "'_Pop a squat_'?" he said incredulously.

Pam looked at him, completely serious. "Yeah!" she said. "You know, we'll just hang out in the hallway until morning or something. What else can we do?"

_Call security and have them open the door,_ Jim thought, but he much preferred this option. Smiling, he sat down next to Pam and spread the still-sandy blanket over both of them. Pam yawned, squinting her eyes and wrinkling her nose.

"We'll just wait for everyone else to wake up," she said muzzily. They sat up for a moment staring at the pale pink wall in front of them, but Pam's eyes kept sliding shut. Her head would fall forward only to jerk upright again.

Jim smiled to himself at Pam's efforts to stay awake. "Hey, Pam," he whispered.

"Huh?"

"Do you want to just take a nap, and I'll wake you up when everyone else wakes up?"

"Mmmkay," Pam said happily, promptly snuggling in against Jim's side, her head resting on his shoulder. His heart ached at her sleepy, affectionate touch, but as much as it hurt it felt equally amazing. He rested his head against the wall, and waited for sunrise.

AN: I've actually never been to a Country Inn, so I don't know if their windows don't work or if their clocks are cheap. I just kinda chose a random place. So…sorry Country Inn. I'm sure you're great.

I also don't own Battlestar Galactica or the SciFi network. Obviously.

Reviews really do make me write faster. No joke. And, if I get enough reviews, you might get to hear about Dwight's Speedo next episode! How will Angela react to _that_?


	7. Chapter 7

-1AN: So I was a little worried with the last chapter that this might become a little bit too angsty, so after some teeny angst in the beginning of this chapter it really picks up. Thank you all SO much for your reviews, you're incredibly sweet. Thankyouthankyouthankyou. Also, still mad props to GreenFish for the beta!

Jim woke up to a camera in his face.

"Hey, Jim. Rise and shine, sweetheart." Jim blinked. One of the camera guys, Mike was grinning at him. Joe, who worked sound, was standing behind him holding the boom, looking equally amused.

"Mpph… what the --" Jim lifted his head to look around, groaning involuntarily at the pain in his neck. _Where..?_ He slowly began to remember. The night on the beach, the secrets, the sketch, falling asleep in the hallway -- _Oh, shit._

"Don't worry, it's pretty early. We might be the first ones to see you two." Joe said cheerfully, extending the boom above Jim's head.

Jim suddenly realized there was someone lying in his arms. Not just someone -- _Pam_. Somehow, during the night they had ended up on their sides, her back flush against his front. His hand was resting firmly on her stomach and their legs were inextricably tangled. And he was in his boxers.

_Oh, God,_ Jim thought. He sat up quickly, and Pam muttered in her sleep. "Morning, guys," Jim said cautiously. He nudged Pam's back. "Pam, wake up."

"What?" she said sleepily.

"Pam, it's time to wake up now."

Pam's eyes opened a crack. Just enough to see Mike and Joe standing there, smiling like a pair of Cheshire cats. "Oh, god," she whispered, clutching the blanket to her.

"It's about… 6:30 now. You guys should probably go get ready. We'll, uh, interview you about this later," Mike said, lowering the camera. His smug grin seemed to fade when he noticed Pam's reaction; over the course of filming for months on end, the camera crew had become fairly close to the office staff. The look in his eyes was guilty and uncomfortable, as they turned and walked towards the elevator.

Pam stumbled to her feet, dragging the blanket with her. She was blushing furiously and quickly crossed the hallway to her door, fumbling for the knob desperately. She opened it, and Jim just barely heard her say, "I'll, um, I'll see you later," before she disappeared into her room.

Jim simply sat for a moment, resting his forehead in his hands. He finally stood using the wall for support. He couldn't think of another time that he'd felt so exhausted, as he headed down the hallway towards his room.

xxxx

Pam was so thankful that the door was open, she didn't immediately think as to why. She only realized when she saw Angela's neatly made bed.

_Oh, God, she must have seen us, too,_ Pam thought. She felt kind of sick, and the tears that had been welling up in her eyes started to spill over. She wasn't sure if she felt sick because she had been caught lying in Jim's arms, or because it had felt so right.

Pam walked over to her bed and fell into it gratefully; her muscles ached after sleeping for several hours in a hallway. She could still feel Jim's hand burning against the skin of her stomach, and her stomach fluttered with a feeling all too similar to homesickness. The feeling haunted her until she finally drifted off to a restless sleep.

xxxx

Neither Jim nor Pam came to the breakfast buffet that morning. Mike felt his stomach twist, clenched with guilt. His job was becoming harder and harder as he spent more time with the employees of Dunder-Mifflin, Scranton. He had essentially become friends with these people, and at times he felt he them better than they knew themselves.

Just like everyone else on the camera crew, Mike was rooting for Jim and Pam. Everyone had seen through the lens of the camera, and with their own eyes, what the two had between them. At first, nobody could stop talking about what great TV it would make. Over time, however, they themselves had been drawn into the story, and it had become much more difficult to film with an unbiased eye. Mike had been psyched about the hallway footage that morning, until he had seen Pam's face crumple.

Mike looked at Joe, who was sitting across the table, picking at his meal. Their eyes met, and Mike knew Joe had to be thinking the same thing.

"We made Pam cry," Mike said.

"I know."

"We really suck."

"I know."

"What do we do with the footage?"

Joe paused. "Dude, I have no clue."

xxxx

Angela stood next to Pam's bed, looking down at her sleeping figure. She figured it was late enough that she could wake Pam up now; it was unhealthy to sleep until such late hours of the day. "Pam? Pam, are you awake?"

Pam raised her head slightly, blinking sleepily. "Angela?"

"Yes."

"What time is it?"

"It's ten in the morning. If you sleep any later, you'll be tired all day and you won't be able to sleep tonight."

Pam sat up and stretched, facing Angela who walked over and sat on her own bed. "Oh, um --"

"I woke up at five this morning to go do some laps in the pool and I saw you and Jim in the hallway." Angela saw no need to introduce this topic gently. Delicacy was not the priority here.

Pam's eyes widened. She quickly looked away as she sat upright, crossing her legs in front of her.

"I think you know how inappropriate this is. You have a fiancé."

Tears immediately sprang to Pam's eyes, and Angela felt a pang of guilt. It was a new sensation for her; a few months ago, she would have been pleased at Pam's tears, seeing them as a sign of remorse. Recently, she had found herself becoming more compassionate towards people, and she wasn't sure as to why. It was perplexing as to why her usually firm resolve had weakened.

"It -- it really wasn't what it looked like -- I mean, it's just…" Pam's voice trailed off uselessly. "It was an accident. Nothing happened," she whispered.

"I know," Angela said, and Pam looked up at her, surprised.

"Jim and I are just friends," Pam said, her voice a little steadier, and Angela nodded mutely. Pam sighed. "Mike and Joe got us on tape though."

"I'm sure I could talk to them," Angela said, her voice calm.

Pam reached for a tissue from the box that sat on the nightstand and blew her nose. She looked at Angela again through her lashes, her head hanging slightly. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Angela stood up stiffly. "I know what it's like, to care for someone but to have to keep it a secret," she said. "But you have to be more careful." She was just about to leave the room when there was a knock on the door.

"Angela and Pamelama! Open up! It's the party police, and we've come to let you know there's gonna be a par-_tay_ on the beach!" The voice was unmistakably Michael's.

"Michael, 'party police' are supposed to break _up_ the parties, not start them," Angela said, not opening the door. Honestly, that man was so inappropriate. She admired Dwight's deep sense of loyalty, but really.

There was a pause. "Well, I don't know about that, but in that case we are the party _starters,_ as in we're gonna get this party _started_!"

"_Yeah_!" Pam heard Dwight's muffled voice in the background.

Angela opened the door a crack, which Michael took as an invitation to burst into the room. He was wearing a t-shirt and swim trunks, and was carrying a boogie board, a beach ball and a hula hoop. When Pam saw what Dwight was wearing, she burst out laughing, clapping a hand over her mouth.

"What?" Dwight asked angrily.

"Oh, um, oh my -- nothing, just, uh, what are you wearing?" Pam asked, looking him up and down.

"It's a _sarong_, Pam," Dwight said. "I bought it at the gift shop. All the guys are wearing them nowadays. Jim said you might not understand. And he said it would just look stupid if I wore a shirt with it."

"I think you look very nice, Dwight," Angela said, raising an admonishing eyebrow at Pam.

"Thank you, Angela," Dwight said. They didn't look at each other.

Michael rolled his eyes. "All right, well, now that we're done with all the _gay_ stuff, how about you two beach bunnies shimmy into your bikinis and meet us down on the beach! Or, we could wait for you here…"

"We'll meet you there, Michael," Pam said quickly.

Michael looked slightly disappointed. "Well, if you two are sure --"

"We're sure," Angela confirmed.

"All right," Michael said. "We'll, uh, just head down, then! Meet us there!" He scampered out of the room.

Dwight stood awkwardly for a moment. "I will hope to see you there, Angela."

Angela looked at Pam anxiously, who all of a sudden became very absorbed in reading the room service menu. "I hope to see you, too," Angela whispered. Dwight gave her the smallest smile, which she returned. He left the room, hitching up his sarong so he could run to keep up with Michael. Angela turned back to Pam, who was looking around helplessly.

"I don't suppose you could have a bathing suit I could borrow?" she asked.

Angela shook her head. "Why didn't you bring one?"

Pam sighed. "Well, you know Michael. I guess I just didn't really take him seriously about the whole thing. I mean, I threw some stuff in a bag, but that's it."

"Well, I guess I could understand not taking Michael seriously," Angela smiled her small, elusive smile, "but you should always be prepared, Pam."

Pam nodded, resigned. "Yeah, I've definitely learned my lesson. Especially since this means I'll have to borrow a bathing suit from Meredith or Kelly."

Angela winced slightly in sympathy.

AN: So yeah, I really can't emphasize the importance of reviews! What do you thing about furthering the story line with Mike and Joe? I was kind of nervous about adding completely new characters to the story, so if they don't flow I'll just kill them off or something. Just kidding. But not really.

Also, if you review, it makes me like you. And if I like you, I'll want to make you happy. And if me updating makes you happy, then I'll update fast! It's simple logic, people.


	8. Chapter 8

-1AN: Originally I was gonna have this be the beach party chapter, but then I felt like I had to get some stuff wrapped up before then. So next chapter, I promise: Dwight in a Speedo, Pam in a bikini and the limbo will be done by all!

And thanks again to GreenFish for the beta, and for the Jim/Pam convo! She understood how important it is to work this sarong for all it's worth.

xxxx

The truth was, Dwight Schrute had never seen the sea. Well, he had seen it on TV, obviously, just never in person. His father had hated to travel and his mother had left when he was very young. His father had always told him that his mother had left because she had "no respect for authority". Ever since then, he had held authority above everything else. Dwight couldn't imagine that he would have liked such a flighty woman anyway.

That was beside the point. The key thing was that Dwight Schrute had never seen the sea, much less left the Northeast until now. He had just never felt the need to; he loved Scranton, and besides, he could hardly leave the beet farm and Mose. However, when the opportunity had arisen to take this trip, he was excited. It had taken all his willpower to not go straight to the beach as soon as the Dunder-Mifflin team had landed in Florida. He wanted Michael to be there for his first time.

Now that he was finally here, the expanse of the water spread out before him, he felt overwhelmed. Dwight knew from television that the sea was big -- that it went on as far as the eye could see. There was something to actually _seeing_ it though, and smelling it. Schrutes had incredibly keen senses of smell, and the salty tang was almost overpowering. It was noisy too, the waves grinding against the shore.

"What -- what is it?" Michael asked, looking at Dwight curiously. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Nothing," Dwight said, his voice stiff. "I just…" Dwight trailed off, tightly gripping the knot of his beach sarong in his right hand. His breath came in short puffs.

Michael eyed him critically, and Dwight winced. Michael could read him like a book sometimes, and Dwight despised lying to him. He could be a master liar if he wanted to, but it was dishonorable. Especially to Michael.

"Wait a minute -- you don't have, like, um – _thatassaphobia, _you know– fear of the ocean, do you?" Michael's face was a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"It's _Thalassophobia_, Michael, and no… _no_," Dwight said, suddenly relieved. He glanced between Michael and the camera crew that had followed them to the beach.

"Well, whatever, Dwight," Michael rolled his eyes, "just stop being such a loser and help me set up the luau."

"But we're not in Hawaii, and luaus are traditionally Hawaiian celebrations --"

"I know that!" Michael cut him off. "But we're still on a beach, and this is my thing, so just -- just _do _it, okay?"

Dwight nodded his head; if Michael thought it was appropriate, then it obviously was.

"Okay," Michael said, "let's have the limbo over here. Did you bring the boom box?"

Dwight shook his head. "The hotel said that they didn't have one they could lend us. They said it could get broken on the beach."

Michael sighed, frustrated. "How could it get broken?!"

"Water damage, sand damage, heat damage…" Dwight began counting off on his fingers.

"Okay, just -- shut it and set up the limbo. You'll have to sing the limbo song, then"

"What's the limbo song --?" Dwight began to ask, but Michael walked away to go set up the beach relay race. Dwight hitched up his sarong and proceeded to saw off the end of a broomstick he had found in a closet.

He knew that one should always be vigilant when working with sharp instruments, but he just couldn't stop staring at the sea.

xxxx

Pam was in the hotel gift shop, and she was desperate. "Are you _positive_ that you don't have any cheaper bathing suits?" she begged the girl behind the counter.

The girl blew a bubble with her gum and snapped it, loudly. She was obviously bored with this customer. "Ma'am, I'm positive. If there's anything _else_ I can help you with, though, be sure to let me know," she said without any conviction. She went back to examining the horrendously long, red nails of her right hand.

Pam turned away and walked out of the gift shop, dejected. _Ma'am?_ she thought. _That girl wasn't much younger than me at all! I don't look old enough to be called 'ma'am!' _ She looked down at her feet as she walked towards the elevators. Caught up in her distress about the bathing suit, she ran straight into Jim.

"Whoa, Beesly!" he chuckled nervously. "You gotta stop charging into people like that."

"Oh, hey, I'm -- I'm sorry," she stuttered, flushing. She cursed herself mentally. _God, I sound like a fourteen year old girl._

Jim looked behind himself at the elevator and jabbed towards it with his thumb. "Are you, uh, headed back up? You aren't going to the beach par-_tay_?"

Pam smiled slightly. "Yeah, yeah, I think so. I mean, I think I will. I'm just, uh, trying to figure out where I can get a bathing suit. You know, that's not Kelly's." She made a face.

"What?" Jim said, smirking. "Pink polka dots and ruffles aren't your thing?"

"Oh, well," Pam said, a slow smile spreading across her face, "maybe, but I caught a glimpse of Dwight's _sarong_, and I wouldn't want people to think we were trying to match."

Jim snorted. "Yeah, that was – wow. Can you believe he actually bought that thing?"

"No… I can't believe it's got polka dots on it, either."

"Well, it's very stylish, you know, in certain areas of the male community." Jim smirked, starting to break again.

"I'm sure he'll be the belle of the beach," Pam said with mock seriousness, trying to hide her smile.

"Yes, I'm sure," Jim said, smiling back at her. A long pause hung between them. Jim shifted on his feet. "I should probably get down to the beach, you know -- Michael…" He trailed off.

"Yeah – I guess I need to go find a suit, then."

"Yeah," Jim said. "Well, good luck with that. I guess I'll see you down there later, then?"

Pam fought the butterflies in her stomach that she felt when she heard the hopefulness in his voice. "Yeah, definitely."

xxxx

Pam knocked on Kelly's door hesitantly. It swung open immediately to reveal Kelly's wide, grinning face.

"Pam!" she squealed. "I am like, so _totally_ excited for this party! I mean, it's Michael, so it'll be lame, but me and Meredith were going to sneak in some booze." She looked critically at Pam's t-shirt and jeans, her eyes wide. "Ohmigod, do you need a bathing suit? Cause I have like five and there's this _adorable_ pink one that I'm not wearing, and I'm positive that it would look totally hot on you. Come in, come in, we're just getting ready!"

Pam paused. "Uh, okay." She wondered at how she and Kelly had managed to have a 30 second conversation in which she hadn't spoken at all. _Well, calling it a conversation would have been generous, _she thought as Kelly ushered her in.

"Hey, Pam! Want a drink?" Meredith greeted her, not looking away from the mirror where she was applying mascara. Pam could tell that Meredith had already indulged in a few "pre-party" drinks herself. "Are you ready to go meet some hunks down at the beach?" Meredith winked suggestively.

"Meredith!" Kelly squealed, "Pam totally has a fiancé! They've been engaged for like, three years!"

Pam flinched a little at the mention of her engagement. "I don't know if you're likely to meet any 'hunks' at the beach, Meredith," she said, trying to change the subject. "Unless you're talking about Kevin and Creed."

Meredith shuddered, accidentally poking herself in the eye with the mascara brush. "Damn it!" she cursed, holding a Kleenex to her watering eye.

Kelly rolled her eyes and began rummaging through her bag while Pam waited, playing with her engagement ring. "So," Pam said, "are you guys gonna go swimming?"

Kelly and Meredith both broke out into laughter. "Are you kidding?!" Kelly screeched. "And ruin my makeup and hair that took me two hours?"

Pam's eyes widened. "You spent _two hours_ getting ready?"

Pam gaped at her, her mouth slightly ajar. Pam wondered if Kelly really knew what she was saying sometimes. Her lack of self-awareness was almost bad enough to rival Michael's -- almost.

"Here we go!" Kelly cried, pulling a hot pink bikini out of her over-stuffed suitcase. "Ohmigod, you're gonna look totally hot in this. I mean, you're a _little _bit pale for the color, but we can totally spend some of the week working on that."

Pam stared in horror at the bright pink contraption that was more string than cloth. Pam weighed the options in her head; she _really_ wanted go swimming, but going swimming meant wearing that… _thing_. Pam looked at the bikini, then at the flask that sat on the counter next to Meredith. She swallowed. "Hey, Meredith," she called. "I think I _will_ have a drink before we go."

"Yeah, _Pam_!" Meredith cried.

xxxx

Mike hated shooting on beaches. Sand had a way of fucking up the cameras like nothing else could. He was sitting next to Creed on a salt-encrusted piece of driftwood, smoking a cigarette. Only he and Creed smoked, so they had started to take their smoking breaks together. Creed was a pretty interesting guy when it came down to it, but seeing him on the beach… he just wished that Creed wouldn't wear those flip-flops that showed off the toes he _didn't_ have.

Mike took a deep drag off his cigarette, then closed his eyes as he exhaled through his nose. The repetitive action soothed him, which he needed right now considering how conflicted he was. He was contractually obligated to give any film he shot over to the editors, and he couldn't talk to the office workers about the documentary. If he erased the footage he'd shot in the hallway that morning, he could get fired from one of the best jobs he'd had in a while. He also knew that the viewers of the documentary would just eat up the Jim/Pam storyline. Their modern day "unrequited love" might even make or break the documentary, in terms of success.

Then he thought about Pam's face when she had awoken to his camera staring at her, and her look of horror. He thought about how she and Phyllis had indulged him by cooing over pictures of his new baby girl, agreeing that she was the cutest thing they had ever seen. Even Jim had managed to withstand Mike's barrage of baby stories, and he had had the good grace to agree with Mike that his baby was probably the smartest baby ever born. And then how Pam had given him such great advice when he got in a huge fight with his wife -- _God, my head just hurts from thinking about all this,_ he thought. _When did things get so personal?_

"Yo, Mike," Joe called, walking towards him, his feet slipping in the sand. "Shit, it's hot," he said under his breath. "Anyway, they're gonna start now. You and Creed should probably head on over."

Creed took a final pull on his cigarette and flicked in into the sand. "Thanks, Ace," he said to Joe before wandering back towards the growing group of Dunder-Mifflinites.

Joe glanced at Mike. "Hey, so did you know that Creed had so many tattoos…?"

Mike shook his head. "Don't -- just, don't even go there, man."

"It looks like they _melted_ or something!" Joe said in wonder.

Mike put his own cigarette out in the sand and stood. "It's called getting old."

They could hear Michael's voice loud and clear, despite the fact that they were a few yards down the beach. "Dunder-Mifflin employees!" he called out. "Welcome to your exotic, group-building luau!"

"And so it begins," Joe sighed.

xxxx

AN: So I hope that Dwight sounded genuine, I was actually kinda nervous about writing his POV, since he's one of the most complex characters on the show (I think so anyway). It's interesting to think why Dwight ended up the way he is; how much of it is just his personality, and how much is how he was raised. Nature vs. nurture! Alright!

…or maybe he's just a tool. A lovable tool.

Oh, and, um… review review review pleasepleaseplease. Fo' serious. Reviews are magical things.


	9. Chapter 9

-1Jim stood in the ocean, the cool water stinging his toes. The sun was still high in the sky, and he could already feel his shoulders burning. He took a sip of his beer and ran a hand through his hair.

True to custom, Michael had somehow found a way past the 'NO ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES' sign posted prominently on the beach. Toby, of course, initially resisted , but had eventually just sighed and gave in. He was now drinking a wine cooler and holding one end of the broomstick/limbo pole.

In the beginning, Dwight insisted on holding the other end of the pole because he had to sing the limbo song (which had consisted of Dwight singing "Limbo, lim-bo, liiimbo," to the tune of "Happy Birthday"), but he had since decided that he needed to conquer the game. Dwight made Toby give up the other side to Kevin, who took the pole so they could begin 'tackle-limbo'. The objective was to keep anyone else from going under the pole by any means necessary. At the moment, Michael lay prone on the beach as Kevin and Dwight hit him with the limbo stick. Michael was swearing at them, telling Dwight to stop. Jim pulled out his cell phone, which he was keeping at hand, in case an ambulance needed to be called. At this point, that wasn't an unlikely scenario.

Jim felt the sand sliding out from beneath his feet, pulled back out by the waves. He took another swig of beer, squinting his eyes against the glare of the sun on the water. Pam wasn't here yet and he was restless. He didn't like how things had been left between them, how awkward it was. At least he knew Packer wasn't coming today; according to Michael, Packer was riding out a hell of a hangover in his room.

Jim felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder and he jumped slightly, surprised. He turned to see Pam standing there, smiling from ear to ear.

"Hey, you!" she giggled. She seemed to realize how she was laughing at nothing, and she tried to compose herself. Her botched attempt at seriousness made him smile.

"Hey, yourself -- wait, _what _are you wearing?" he asked, looking her up and down with wide eyes.

She smiled, forgetting her effort to be serious. "What, you don't like it?" She spun around in the sand, stumbling a little bit. Her hair fanned out as she twirled with childish delight.

Jim rolled his eyes. "I don't know, Pam, you couldn't have found a nice burqa to wear? I mean, this is just… _way_ to revealing." He looked her up and down again; she was wearing an enormous, long-sleeved t-shirt and sweatpants. "Seriously, Beesley. Where _did _you find these clothes?"

Pam stopped spinning, although it was obvious that her mind hadn't as she began to lean dangerously to one side. Jim caught her forearms in his hands, steadying her. "Whoa," she laughed breathlessly. She paused for a moment, closing her eyes. "Okay, I'm good." Jim let go of her arms cautiously and she tucked her hair behind her ears. "Um, the sweatpants are mine, the shirt is Phyllis'. I guess she packed warm clothes too in case we went skiing. Which is rather optimistic of her. I mean, skiing is more expensive than Florida, right? Plus, I broke my arm skiing once, did I ever tell you that?"

By now Jim was well aware that Pam was tipsy; she only really rambled like this when she was tipsy or had a lot of sugar. "Yeah, you told me," he said, smiling. "You were six and you broke your arm. When your parents saw how you colored all over your cast, they enrolled you in art classes."

Pam linked her arm in Jim's, turning to face the sea. "You remember _everything_, Jim. That's part of what I love about you. You remember everything. I don't think anyone else in the world knows me like you do."

Jim's mind was trying valiantly to sustain two trains of thought at once. One was: _Well, I couldn't seem to remember shit about French verbs in high school, but I can remember everything about you, _and the other just kept going: '_Part of what she LOVES about me'--? 'That's part of what I love about you'--! Love? Love? Oh my God. _ Jim tried to keep his face pleasantly neutral while a riot of thoughts made a mess of his brain.

"_Pam!_" a voice cried from behind them, and Pam whirled around. "What are you doing wearing that _circus tent_?" Kelly came flying down the beach, two bright-pink drinks in her hand. Jim only had to think for a moment of who would think to bring everything needed to mix drinks at the beach. Then he realized that Meredith probably kept a portable bar on her at all times. (The woman had an already-opened bottle of bourbon in her car, after all.)

Pam blushed, wrapping her arms around her stomach. "_Kelly_," she whined in a very un-Pam way. "I don't know, I mean -- I don't really --"

"No, no, no!" Kelly pushed her drinks into Jim's hands, and he tried frantically to juggle the two drinks and his beer. Kelly began plucking at the shirt Pam wore. "I did _not_ lend you my eighty-dollar, _amazing _bikini for you to hide it under a burlap sack!"

Pam's eyes widened and she leaned forward, shushing Kelly loudly. "Kelly!" she said, "This is Phyllis' shirt! Don't say that!" Thankfully Phyllis was further up the beach, trying her hand at limbo. _Who knew Phyllis could bend like that,_ Jim thought abstractly.

Kelly crossed her arms over her chest. She was already decked out in a white bikini lined with gold embroidery and faux-gold coins, a gauzy white sarong wrapped around her hips. The coins on her suit chimed as she tapped her foot. Or maybe that was the ankle bracelet she had on. "Nuh-uh," Kelly said firmly. "Pam, you have got to learn to be _proud_ of your body! I read this in _Cosmo_, and you know they're totally right, don't you?"

Pam turned to Jim, her face pleading but he just raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "You _did _promise me that you would swim with me, no matter how cold it was." Pam's jaw dropped at his lack of support, but he just grinned and continued: "What were your exact words? Let me see… 'Halpert, I used to do polar bear swim _every morning_ at camp. I will swim no matter _how_ cold it is.' A verbal contract is binding, Beesly."

"There were no witnesses! No witnesses, no contract! I took law in high school!" Pam shouted. Her tone was desperate, but she was laughing at the same time.

Kelly began giggling too and took the glasses back from Jim, handing one to Pam. "Here, this'll help," she said, smiling wickedly, as they tapped the rims of their glasses together.

Pam held a hand to her forehead and looked at Jim, smiling. She raised her glass in the air and said loudly, "To Dunder-Mifflin!" Jim raised his glass obligingly to hers and they clinked together.

Meredith somehow heard them from farther up the beach and raised her shot glass in the air as well. "To Dunder-Mifflin!" she cried, throwing back her head as she downed the shot. Laughing, other office workers on their beach raised their glasses, "To Dunder-Mifflin!"

Jim saw Michael grinning widely, looking like he was about to cry. Dwight stood at attention, saluting, his sarong flowing in the breeze. Jim didn't know exactly what Dwight was saluting towards (probably Michael). Angela stood beside Dwight, in a navy blue, prim one-piece with blue shorts and a white bathing cap. She even raised her glass of sparkling water to toast.

Jim also thought he heard Creed call from the hole he had dug himself, "To Blunder-Wifflin!"

Jim looked at the motley crew that had assembled on the beach, raising their illegal alcoholic drinks in the air. These people had nothing in common, except that they were stuck at the same dull job at the same stifling office for eight hours a day. He was nothing like these people, yet he spent more time with them than he did with his friends. Jim was surprised to find that despite their flaws and quirks, he cared about all of them, a lot. _Maybe some more than others, though,_ he thought, looking over at Pam.

As Pam met Jim's eyes, he raised his beer to the sky and said softly "To Dunder-Mifflin." She smiled at him, radiant.

A calm, unifying silence fell over the beach.

"Well, last one in the water is a rotten egg!" Michael yelled, stripping off his shirt as he ran towards the water, whooping.

_Jesus, he looks like a bear,_ Jim couldn't help but think as he watched Michael run, his hairy chest thrust outward.

Dwight sprinted after him, fumbling with the tie of his sarong. "Wait for me, Michael!" he yelled.

Pam made a face. "I guess Dwight doesn't want to be that rotten egg. Because, you know, that would really suck."

Jim laughed and watched Dwight, who finally just ripped the sarong off, tossing it behind himself. "Oh, God," Jim murmured.

Dwight was wearing what was perhaps the smallest Speedo that Jim had ever seen (not that he had seen many). It was bright red and obviously several sizes too small. The size of it and the fact that Dwight was running, caused it to ride up in a most inappropriate way. It was as if time had gone into slow motion, like some nightmare version of _Baywatch_. Dwight tossed his head back as if flipping his hair, his eyes closed blissfully, his arms outspread.

Michael, standing in the ocean, had looked excited until he turned to see that only Dwight had followed him. When he saw what Dwight was wearing, he frantically began to swim out to sea. Jim could just barely hear him calling "Dwight -- get _away_! No, Dwight, _what are you _--?"

"Who wants to play 'chicken'?" Dwight called as he turned towards the beach, still only thigh-deep in the water. "Michael and I are a team! I call top!"

Kelly looked sick, holding a hand up to her perfectly lined lips. Pam gasped, turning towards Jim and shielding her eyes. "I -- I don't even --" Words failed her as she looked at Jim, her face ashen.

He swallowed, and looked down at Pam. "Well…" he began slowly, "if you've got it, flaunt it."

AN: For those of you who don't know how to play 'chicken', you require four people and a body of water at least shoulder-deep. There are two teams, with one person sitting on their teammate's shoulders. Then, the people on top try to knock the other person down (the person on bottom can help with this, but they're usually trying to stay standing and keep their heads above water).

Also, I don't own _Baywatch_. In case you don't know by now, I really don't own anything except this laptop.


	10. Chapter 10

-1AN: Sooo, I'm not much good at that whole 'oh la la' writing, but I did my best. Sorry if the much awaited bikini scene was not up to par :-\ Oh, and I suck because of inconsistency… earlier in the story, I wrote Kelly and Ryan as dating. Whiiich, they actually weren't dating yet in the show. And when I originally wrote this, I wrote them as dating again accidentally, but GreenFish helped me pick that out. But if there are any little snags, sorry!

When Ryan Howard had signed up at the temp agency, this was definitely _not_ what he had expected his job would be like. Of course, on the first day, after the boss made the receptionist cry, he'd gotten the feeling that he might be in for a ride. 'A ride' was nowhere near adequate in describing what the past few months had been like.

Honestly, he never would have imagined himself sitting on a beach in Florida, sipping a rum and orange juice with some of the weirdest people he'd ever met. _For work. _He hadn't been dying to come on this trip (he was missing an economics test to be here), but Michael had told him it was mandatory. At least he didn't totally mind _some_ of the people there, like Toby. Toby was a pretty quiet dude normally, but he could have a wicked sense of humor when he did speak up. Ryan guessed it was pretty cool to be able to take a break from real work, too.

Ryan winced as he looked up to see Kelly flouncing towards him. That girl was so annoying. She never seemed to shut up. "Dude, hide me!" he muttered under his breath to Toby, who stood next to him.

Toby just chuckled. "Can't really help you there. I spend all day working with her – I figure it's fair that some of _you_ get to hang out with her now." Ryan watched with horror as Toby slipped away towards the beer cooler.

"Hey, Ryan!" Kelly chirped. "Whatcha talking about?"

"Nothing," Ryan sighed, leaning back slightly. The alcohol on her breath could take out a horse.

"Hey! You haven't said if you like my new bathing suit or not!" She pouted, placing her hands on her hips.

"It looks great, Kelly," Ryan replied. He wasn't lying: she actually _did _fill out her bikini pretty well. Sure, she was a little curvier than the girls he usually dated, but there was nothing wrong with that…

He realized he was staring at her when Kelly stroked his arm, breaking him out of his trance. "Ryan! You are so sweet!" She beamed, throwing her arms around his neck. "Oh!" she jumped backward. "I meant to ask you if you want to challenge Jim and Pam at chicken!"

"Uh…" Ryan hesitated. "Honestly, Kelly, I really don't want to take my shirt off around Michael. I just don't think I could take that right now."

Toby nodded. "Yeah, sorry about that whole 'Michael' thing by the way."

Ryan shrugged. "Not your fault, man."

Toby was about to reply when Jim and Pam came running up the beach. "Guys, guys!" Jim called out. "We have to get in the water. Somehow, Dwight and Angela are reigning undefeated at chicken."

"Why don't _you_ guys go defeat them?" Ryan asked, somewhat helplessly. He already knew that Kelly was going to make him go in the water, no matter what he said.

"Pam refuses to go unless another girl goes in, too." Jim rolled his eyes, and Pam smacked him on the shoulder.

"_And_," Pam added, "I don't think I can take on Angela alone. Have you ever seen her nails?"

Toby walked back towards them, another wine cooler in hand. "What's going on?" he asked.

Pam explained: "Angela and Dwight are beating everyone at chicken. "I'm trying to get more people out there – someone needs to take them down." Jim nodded in agreement.

"Wait … how is Angela even _playing_ this game? This is seems like something she would find completely inappropriate," Toby said, his eyebrows furrowed.

Pam and Kelly began to giggle, leaning on each other.

"Do I even want to know?" Toby asked.

"It's just --" Kelly snorted and covered her mouth. "We switched Angela's sparkling water with ginger ale and vodka!" She was now laughing so hard that she was bent in half, a hand clutched to her stomach.

Pam gasped for breath in between giggles. "It was really _way_ more vodka than ginger ale. I have no idea how she's been able to stay on top of Dwight…" Pam trailed off, a snort escaping from her. She looked over at Jim.

Jim nodded, as if to give her the go-ahead.

"That's what she said!" Pam burst out, doubling over with laughter.

"I think Angela's not the only one who's had a bit of vodka today," Toby mumbled, glancing over at Ryan. Ryan nodded, smirking.

xxxx

Pam was having a _great_ time. She really didn't drink that much, but it was just so nice out and she was just relieved to hang out with some nice people and not have to think about Roy. Pam was a little bit surprised that she was having so much fun with Kelly, of all people, but she'd found that Kelly was sort of a guilty pleasure friend. Pam's _best_ friend would always be Jim, but with Kelly she could just be girly and shallow.

"You are definitely going to Hell, Beesly," Jim said, smiling at her as she tried to compose herself. "Spiking a honest woman's drink?"

"Hey, I'll see you there in Hell, buddy!" Pam replied, pointing her finger at him accusingly. She knew she was acting goofy, but she really didn't care. She linked her arm through Jim's and turned back to Kelly, Ryan and Toby.

"So, are you guys going to help us take down Dwight and Angela?" Pam asked. "They've already defeated Phyllis and Oscar, and Creed and Meredith."

"Phyllis and Oscar…?" Toby paused, cocking his head to the side.

"Oscar was on top," Kelly assured himToby just nodded, looking slightly relieved and guilty at the same time.

Kelly draped her arms around Ryan's neck, looking up at him through her lashes. Pam almost laughed out loud at the expression on Ryan's face; he knew he was in trouble.

"Pleeease, Ryan? I wanna go swimming and I need someone else to come with me…" Kelly fluttered her eyelashes exaggeratedly. "Please, please, please, please, please?"

Ryan groaned and tried to turn his face away, but Kelly had him trapped. "Okay, okay!" he finally relented, rolling his eyes. Kelly smiled triumphantly.

"So -- you ready, Beesly?" Jim asked Pam, smiling down at her.

"I was _born_ ready, Halpert!" she retorted, squinting her eyes threateningly.

Jim just laughed. "Oh, snap! The smack talk begins!"

"You know it!" Pam grinned as she turned towards her bag she had left on the beach. It just had her shoes, her room key and a book she had brought just in case. She quickly stripped off her shirt and the sweatpants she was wearing, throwing them on top of her stuff in her eagerness to get into the water.

Pam turned back around, still smiling. "Let's go --" she started to say before she stopped short, knowing that she was probably now blushing head to toe. Jim had taken off his shirt and now stood waiting for her, and she couldn't help herself as her eyes drank him in. Really, before this vacation it was very rare for her to see him in anything other than a shirt and tie, much less no shirt at _all_. She just barely managed to stop her loose tongue from asking him if he worked out; it was obvious that he did, anyway. He had a swimmer's body, in that he wasn't freakishly muscular, but there definitely wasn't any…_extra_ on him. _Thank God he hasn't got a beer gut like Roy_, Pam couldn't help but think. She felt guilty as soon as the thought crossed her mind. She knew it wasn't fair to compare them.

Pam was so lost in thinking of how much she would like to draw Jim like _this_, that she hadn't noticed until now that Jim, Toby and Ryan were all staring at her rather curiously"What?" she found herself saying, looking down at herself, following their gaze. _Oh, God, the bathing suit…! _

When she spoke, all of the guys jumped a little bit, their eyes flickering back to her face. She crossed her arms over her stomach self-consciously; she couldn't remember feeling this awkward since high school, since before she dated Roy. He had tried to make sure that no guy looked at her like that pretty much since then. However, try as she might, Pam couldn't help but enjoy the fact that for the moment, Toby, Jim and Ryan had apparently all forgotten how to speak.

Ryan pulled himself together first, probably because he could feel the heat of Kelly's gaze as she glared daggers at him. "What?" he shrugged, as if denying that he had ever looked at another girl in his whole life.

"You, uh, you look really -- um, you look really nice, Pam. Is that a -- um, a new bathing suit?" Toby stuttered, and Pam almost felt bad for him. His gaze had now dropped down to his drink, and it didn't look like he had any plans of making eye contact with her any time soon.

"It's actually Kelly's," Pam said faintly, subconsciously playing with the string that held the bikini bottoms together. She allowed her hair to fall forward and cover her face slightly, a habit she had taken to whenever she had felt like she needed to hide. She looked up at Jim from beneath her curtain of hair, and she felt a shock run over her spine as her eyes met his full on. The intensity in his gaze was as frightening as it was alluring, and she found herself thinking that she had never seen his eyes appear so green.

The silence was interrupted as Kelly rushed up to Pam, clapping her hands. "Ohmigod, you look totally _awesome_," she grinned and Pam let out a burst of laughter, relieved when most of the tension seemed to melt from the air.

"Thanks," Pam replied, though she could still feel her skin prickling with embarrassment. She took a deep breath and laughed again, twirling in the sand and striking a pose.

"I wish I had a camera!" Kelly said as Pam jokingly puckered her lips, trying to look like a movie star.

"No, no, no!" Pam said quickly. "No documentation of Pam's drunken adventures, please.

"Yeah, Kelly, we don't want this to get too _Girls Gone Wild._" Jim joked. Pam met his eyes, and while she still felt a little breathless, most of the intensity had faded. He was just Jim again. _Just Jim, whose shoulders I would die to sketch_, Pam thought.

"Are we gonna do this or what?" Ryan asked, his voice dripping with boredom. Kelly immediately grabbed his hand and began to run for the water.

"Okay, so this is our game plan," Jim said to Pam as they walked down towards the ocean at a slower pace. "We're gonna see if you can make Kevin faint. I'm pretty sure with your womanly wiles, we can own this beach."

AN: Don't worry, you'll get Jim's point of view on the bikini next chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

-1AN: Thanks to GreenFish for the beta and the awesome Jim thoughts!

After Pam had taken off her ridiculously oversized clothes to reveal what would now forever be known as in his head as "The Hot Pink Bikini," Jim felt pretty sure that his head was going to explode. Honestly, he had imagined a scantily clad Pamela Beesly many times -- more times than he would have liked to admit. However, nothing could hold a candle to the _real thing_ that stood before him.

She wasn't perfect, and it made him love her all the more. She had gorgeous little freckles on her shoulders; her hair was frizzy from the humidity and her tummy poked out just over the top of her bikini bottom. He knew she worked out (one time, she had let it slip that she only worked out because Roy once told her that she needed to, and Jim had been silently furious at Roy for days) but she was still all curves, soft and rounded in all the right places. He almost felt like crying when he saw her cross her arms awkwardly as she tried to cover herself, face flushed with embarrassment. His hands trembled with the effort it took to not gather her in his arms and kiss every part of her, whispering "You're pretty, you're pretty…" like Jim Carey said to Kate Winslet in _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind._

Pam's voice startled him from his thoughts, and he listened as Toby stuttered and stumbled his way through a compliment. Jim watched Pam's face, and he could have sworn he saw a shadow of satisfaction flit over her features, but she quickly looked down at her feet and hid her face, any trace of self-confidence quickly gone.

Then Pam did the last thing Jim would have expected: she looked right at him. Jim suddenly felt panic rising up. Ever since he was a kid, his mother had gone on about what expressive eyes he had He knew it was true. He was an awful liar growing up; his eyes had always betrayed him. While he eventually learned to compensate, he still had trouble masking his stronger emotions. And now Jim felt afraid because he knew, at that moment, Pam could see right through him. He smiled nervously at her, unable to speak – afraid to say anything, lest he give himself away even more.

Jim had no idea whether he should have been thankful or disappointed when Kelly interrupted with her impeccable, and at the same time, cursed sense of timing. Pam obviously relaxed as Kelly chattered on, even going so far as to jokingly strike a pose. Jim finally felt comfortable as he approached them slowly; he made some inane joke or another, like he always did to ease the tension. Pam met his eyes again, and he smiled, hoping he appeared relaxed and casual. This was a little tough however, seing as all his brain could seem to think was: _Guh. Pam… bikini. Boobs. Skin. Soft. Love._

Well, if Jim's face had revealed his thoughts, Pam didn't address it and Jim didn't expect her to. Kelly grabbed Ryan and the foursome began to make their way down to the water.

"So, I hope you don't mind being on bottom?" Jim joked.

Pam placed her hands on her hips, and Jim had to remind himself to keep looking at her face. "I'll have you know that there's a lot more to me than meets the eye, Halpert!" she retorted, pursing her lips.

Jim couldn't help himself. "I'll bet there is," he said with a flirtatious wink.

Pam looked surprised momentarily and for a minute Jim was worried that he had pushed her too far, but she pulled out of it quickly. "Shut up!" she muttered, swatting him on the arm. Just then, they reached the ocean's edge, and the first wave crashed over their feet. "Shit!" Pam yelped, scrambling back up onto the dry sand again.

Jim laughed. He couldn't help but laugh every time he heard her swear; it was a totally different side of Pam that he didn't get to see that often. "It really isn't that bad," he said, stepping further into the water to allow his feet to adjust to the cooler temperature.

"Yeah, not if you're a _polar bear_," Pam scowled. She looked out to the water, where Kelly was already up on Ryan's shoulders, squealing every time the water touched her toes. "Carry me?" she asked Jim, fluttering her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

"Are you serious?" Jim asked, cocking an eyebrow at her.

"Yes! Otherwise I'll never get in this water in time to prevent Dwight and Angela from ruling undefeated!"

"Well, if it's in the name of childish water games…" Jim said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He couldn't keep the hint of a smile away as he looked over at her.

Pam sent him another pitiful look.

Jim sighed dramatically. "Fine," he said, "but it's gonna be even worse when you just fall in the water. Come over here."

Pam walked to the water's edge and Jim crouched down. "We'll just have to win then, won't we?" she said confidently.

"Okay then," Jim said skeptically. "Mount up," he said, gesturing to his shoulders.

Jim tried valiantly to prepare himself, but it seemed futile. If the weight of her head on his shoulder during a diversity seminar could make his day, it was all he could do right now to not faint. She had only threaded her fingers through his hair to rest on his head, and he already felt dizzy. Finally, she threw one of her legs over his shoulder, and using her hands on his head to balance, brought her other leg up to rest on his other shoulder. They tilted precariously and Jim heard Pam giggle as his legs fought to bring them both upright.

"Steady!" she called, still laughing, and her knees bent to wrap her legs under his arms, the tops of her feet resting flat against his lower back. He brought both his hands up to grasp the tops of her thighs and repeated her words in his head as a mantra: _Steady, steady, steady… _

They finally found their balance, and Jim called up to Pam, "Where to, my fair lady?"

"Onward!" she cried, thrusting her finger forward towards the ocean and Jim began to make his way into the water.

"Guys, what is _taking_ you so long?" Kelly cried out from atop a tired, but not altogether-unhappy looking Ryan.

"We were just preparing for battle," Jim replied, willing his body to grow numb to the cold water faster.

"Preparing for _battle_?" Dwight cried, taking a break from he and Angela's victory dance (it was mostly Dwight doing the dancing and Angela holding on for dear life). "This will be no battle, Jim, this will be a _massacre_! Bring it on, fool!"

"Yeah, you – you… nincompoops!" Angela called.

Jim stopped in his tracks. "Nincompoops?" he said incredulously.

"Angela is well known for her smack-talk," Pam's voice said from above him.

"Heathens!" Angela yelled in reply.

"Jeez, Pam," Jim said under his breath. "How much alcohol did you guys give her?"

"Not that much!" Pam said defensively. "We just thought it'd be fun if she loosened up a bit…" Jim could tell from her tone that she felt a little guilty.

"Well," Jim said, hitching Pam further up on his shoulders, "as much as I'd love to discuss this further, I'm getting a little tired. What do you say we get down to it?"

"You have no idea what you're in for, Jim Halpert," Dwight hissed. "You two are about to get your asses—"

"Dwight! Language!" Angela said, hitting Dwight lightly on the side of the head.

"Sorry, Monkey," Dwight muttered. Louder, he continued: "As I was saying, you two are about to regret every time you messed with my bobble-heads!"

"Who's 'Monkey?'" Jim asked Pam, but any reply was drowned out as Dwight and Angela, yelling incomprehensibly, began to charge straight for them.


	12. Chapter 12

-1

The next few minutes were absolute madness. The water was churning and people were screaming; it was like a scene from _Jaws. _Pam thought she heard Jim yell, "Dwight! No biting!" but she couldn't be sure of anything at the moment. At some point, Ryan and Kelly had joined the fray. It seemed that Ryan was trying to hang back, but Kelly was leaning forward, trying to get a piece of Angela. Instead, she got a piece of Pam.

"Ow, ow, ow, _ow! _ Kelly, you've got my hair! We're on the same team!" Pam cried out, leaning heavily towards Kelly to relieve the pressure on her scalp. She felt Jim's fingers digging into her thighs, trying to keep her on his shoulders, and she forgot about the pain momentarily.

"Sorry!" Kelly yelped, trying to untangle her fingers from Pam's thick hair. Meanwhile, Angela kept up a steady attack, latching onto Kelly's arm and trying to pull her off balance.

Pam heard some muffled yelling from below them, and looked down. Dwight was trying to engage Jim in some kind of wrestling hold, but Jim was just slapping his hands away with moves that looked like they were stolen from a catfight in a teen movie. Pam realized that the yelling was coming from Ryan, who – well… was being _suffocated_ by Kelly's thighs. Pulled to the side by Angela, Kelly had latched onto Ryan with her legs, but her grip around his neck was causing him to turn blue.

"Kelly! Just give up, for Ryan's sake!" Pam pleaded, torn between being amused and worried at the expression on Ryan's usually smug face.

"_Never!_" Kelly screeched, just as she lost her balance and fell into the ocean. Because of her death-grip on Ryan, he went down with her. Angela raised her hands in victory, flashing one of her rare smiles.

"Monkey! Disengage!" Dwight yelled, and the two backed off. Dwight was breathing heavily, his face bright red. Jim looked relatively unharmed and Dwight glared at him, obviously put off by the fact that he was winded and Jim wasn't. "Okay, you two, you've put up a decent fight," Dwight wheezed, "but you know that you can't -- _wheeze_ --keep this going much longer –_wheeze_-- We've obviously got the upper-- _wheeze_ --hand and you should just…surrender now," Dwight finally finished, panting.

"Do you need your inhaler?" Pam heard Angela whisper to Dwight.

"No! –_wheeze_—"

"We, uh, are going to consider this. We need a team huddle real quick," Jim said. He sank lower in the water so that some of Pam's weight would be relieved from his shoulders. Pam leaned forward so she could see Jim's face. Suddenly, Jim began to laugh.

"What?" Pam asked, somewhat puzzled.

Jim coughed, still laughing. "Have you ever, uh, as a little kid, done that thing where you draw eyes on your chin and then you lean off your couch upside down, so it looks like a face? But your real face is upside down, so it looks really funny?"

"Yeah, I think I've seen that," Pam shrugged.

"Well, for some reason I just imagined your chin as a face, cause you're upside down, so now every time you talk I just see the chin-face." Jim dissolved into laughter again.

Pam furrowed her eyebrows. "Jim, are you drunk?" she asked.

Jim snorted. "I'm a little tipsy at best, but I'm not drunk. I never go to war drunk. Oh, and speaking of war, I have a strategy."

"What?" Pam asked, lowering her voice.

"Sneak attack in three…two…one…_NOW!_" Jim yelled, suddenly running forward as Pam held on for dear life. They both attempted some sort of battle cry, but they were laughing too hard. The wide-eyed look of shock on Dwight's face was priceless anyway.

The element of surprise gave Jim and Pam the edge; they barreled into Dwight and Angela, toppling them like a tree. Unfortunately, Jim and Pam's combined momentum took them down as well. Pam's lungs emptied in shock as she hit the cold water, and she tried to disentangle herself from who she thought was Jim – or Angela, but she couldn't be sure.

She finally came to the surface, finding Jim, Dwight and Angela already standing there, coughing. Dwight plugged one of his nostrils and blew through the other, as if trying to get water out of his nose. He then sneezed at least four times, but Pam couldn't really blame him, since she felt the uncomfortable burn of salt water in the back of her throat as well.

"Truce," Jim managed to cough out, and Dwight nodded. Jim offered his hand but Dwight merely looked at it with distain.

"Truce…for now," Dwight said ominously.

"Oh my God!" Pam shouted suddenly.

Jim looked towards her, his face concerned. "What?"

Pam covered her mouth, in obvious shock. She pointed with a shaking hand. "P-please don't let that be what I think it is…" she said, horrified.

Floating helplessly in the water was a bright red piece of fabric, the label _Speedo_ displayed prominently in white.

Jim, Pam and Angela all turned to look at Dwight, who had turned a deep purple. "Oh dear God," Dwight said.

xxxx

"What. A. Day." Jim said, shaking his head as he walked Pam back to her room. It was almost 5PM now, and after a day at the beach, everyone needed a little break before dinner.

"Definitely," Pam agreed, whole-heartedly. "Definitely full of it's ups...and _downs_—"

"_No_. No, Pam," Jim interrupted her. "We made a pact. We will never speak of that again. Ever."

Pam nodded solemnly. "Yes, I'm sorry. I forgot."

"I _wish_ I could forget," Jim sighed, and Pam laughed. They finally reached her door, and there was a moment of awkwardness as they stood there.

_Why does this feel like the end of a date or something?_ Pam wondered. This was the most time they had ever spent together outside of work, and honestly she'd had a better time than she had in a long while.

"Okay, well … I'll see you at dinner, Beesly," Jim smiled, almost shyly.

"See you at dinner," Pam agreed. She turned to unlock her door, but couldn't help but look over her shoulder one more time as she watched him walk down the hallway. She couldn't help the spontaneous grin that crossed her face as she walked into her room.

She could hear the shower running and knew that Angela was probably going to be a while. She sat on her bed, bouncing a little bit, before picking up her cell phone off the nightstand where it had been charging its batteries. She flipped it open to the notice "1 New Voicemail." She hit the call button and held the phone to her ear as she absentmindedly brushed the sand off her feet.

"Hey, babe. It's me." Pam stopped moving, frozen. "I just, uh, wanted to see how you were doing. I hope you're having a good time. You know, um, at first I was kinda thinking this was cool, that we could get a little break, you know, and me and Kenny could take the jet skis up to the lake and stuff. But, I don't know -- we did that, and it was fun, but now I kinda miss you. This place seems a lot emptier without you here. So, yeah, um, call me. Love you."

Pam's heart was pounding, and she could swear she heard the roar of the oncoming wave of guilt just before it hit her, crippling. She snapped the cell phone shut, not bothering to save or delete the message as she leaned forward, putting her head between her knees. She felt dizzy, and lost. So lost. How could she have done this? Running around Florida with another man, playing pretend like everything was fine, when her fiancé, a good, loyal man was waiting for her -- and missing her? Pam clenched her jaw and shut her eyes tightly. She didn't want to cry again, but as the words of Roy's message echoed in her mind, she didn't know what else to do.

AN: Whoa! I don't know where the angsty end part came from. Sorry! Don't worry though, JAM will prevail. It's like, Roy is water and Jim is oil. Cause… oil always rises above… water… Okay, I'm sorry. I promise no more oil/water metaphors if you review.

Oh, and by the way?

http://en. is a disease, in that once you picture a person's chin as a face, YOU CAN'T STOP.


	13. Chapter 13

-1**AN: **Hey! So I'm _so _sorry I feel off the face of the earth and kept y'all hanging. I just wasn't really sure where to take the story and I'm still not positive where I want to go with it, so here's a short little chapter. Hopefully I'll get it rolling more soon! (Thanks to GreenFish for the beta!)

"Pam?" Jim knocked tentatively on the hotel door. "Pam, are you in there?" She hadn't shown up for dinner, which only made him more and more apprehensive. When he'd asked Angela, she simply said that Pam wasn't feeling well. When Jim had tried to question her further, Angela had told him curtly that _she _was the safety officer, and while his concern was appreciated, Pam just needed her rest. He finally left dinner early, despite Michael's protests, and went upstairs to check on Pam.

"Pam?" He knocked again. "Um, I'm sorry, Angela just said you weren't feeling great, so I was wondering if you like, wanted… chicken soup or something…" As soon as he said it, Jim rolled his eyes at himself. _God, could I sound more pathetic?_ he thought sadly, letting his forehead rest against the door. Pam was probably sleeping or something. He felt like a loser for checking up on her like this… it wasn't like he was her boyfriend.

Just then, Pam opened the door and Jim lurched forward involuntarily, as the door gave way. His face hung dangerously close to hers and she jumped back, startled.

"Oh, crap, Pam – um, I'm sorry," Jim apologized, regaining his balance awkwardly.

"It's fine," Pam said shortly, not opening the door all the way.

Jim cocked his head to the side, confused by her closed-off demeanor.

"I was just taking a nap," she said.

"Oh, I'm uh -- sorry if I, like, woke you up. I was just, um, checking in on you…" Jim wanted to bury his head in his hands. When had this awkwardness come over them? Earlier, they had been having a great time.

"I'm fine," Pam said. "I just had a little too much to drink." She pulled her sweater closer around her shoulders.

_She's "fine,"_ Jim thought to himself. _God, I hate that word. That's what you say when you just want someone to go away. Is that what she wants?_

"Pamela!" A familiar voice rung through the hallway.

"Oh, _no,_" Pam said resignedly, bringing her fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose.

Dwight was jogging down the hallway, a medical kit in his hand. "Pamela, one of my sources has told me that you are feeling unwell. What are your symptoms? It could be West Nile Virus."

"One of your sources? Dwight, what are you even --"

"_Pam_. We cannot waste time! Have you experienced high fever, headache, neck stiffness, stupor, disorientation, coma, tremors, convulsions, muscle weakness, vision loss, numbness or paralysis?"

"Actually, Dwight, Pam has been combating some serious symptoms of _coma,_" Jim said, raising his eyebrows.

Dwight narrowed his eyes. "You think this is_ funny_, Jim?" he hissed. He scoffed, pushing Jim aside. "I'll deal with you later," he muttered, turning back to Pam. "Now, Pam. Have you been experiencing nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach or diarrhea?"

Pam looked at Dwight in horror.

He looked back at her for a moment before whipping out a notepad and pen. "I'll take that as a yes." He said, scribbling down a note. "Pam, I believe you are suffering from IBS, or, irritable bowel syndrome."

"I can't believe you just recited the Pepto-Bismol song…" Jim said, shaking his head.

"Dwight…just _go away,_" Pam said, evidently torn between amusement and annoyance. Jim glanced at her, hoping to share a look, but she wouldn't meet his gaze. "Actually, just -- both of you, -- I'll just see you guys later. I'm just gonna take some Advil and go back to sleep."

Jim tried to mask the hurt on his face. He couldn't believe he was being dismissed along with _Dwight_. He didn't even know what to say as Pam shut the door quietly, but quickly.

"I bet it's PMS," Dwight whispered.

**AN: **Comments are love!


End file.
